


Japan in Alagaësia

by Methanewoods



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini, 日本国召喚 - みのろう | Nihonkoku Shoukan - Minorou
Genre: Alagaesia, Culture Shock, Dimension Travel, Fantasy, Gen, International Relations, Isekai, Japan, Japan Summons, Modern Era, Pre-early modern period, Preindustrial, Summoning Japan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23478232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Methanewoods/pseuds/Methanewoods
Summary: On the evening of April 1 2020, a mysterious light briefly fills the skies of Japan. Suddenly everything unravels: the country loses all communications with the outside world, arriving planes and ships disappear, and a reconnaissance aircraft sent to survey the situation in Eastern Eurasia finds nothing but ocean. Government officials scramble to respond as Japan is plunged into crisis...Synopsis: Japan is transferred to the world of Alagaësia just before the start of Eragon.Inspired by Nihonkoku Shoukan.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. Radio Silence

**Radio silence**

_Reiwa 2 April 1_

Minato Takahashi did not think his day could get any worse. He had spent much of the afternoon arguing for a further expansion of the country's daily PCR testing capacity from fifty thousand to seventy thousand, to the skepticism of several cabinet ministers. He knew they would come around eventually, just as they had when he had first suggested Japan also adopt a mass testing strategy, instead of relying solely on the cluster-based approach which prescribed that daily PCR testing figures of less than ten thousand were sufficient. It was true that this much testing capacity was unneeded at the moment, but new cases were still growing at an exponential rate. Who was to say that their current testing regime would not be strained at some point in the future?

After the somewhat heated discussion with his cabinet, and with barely any breaks in-between, it was time for the prime minister to receive another briefing on the latest development of the COVID-19 in the Kansai region with the expert panel. He was about to take a seat in the conference room...

...when suddenly a bright light had seeped in through the windows. This would not have been so strange had it actually been in the middle of a day, instead of the darkening dusk of this time of day. Besides, most of this Wednesday had been fairly cloudy, with the occasional light downpouring, not allowing much sunlight to slip through. The light that had just then shone through the windows was only associated with the clearest of a blue sky on a summer midday.

Aides and other staff had jumped and exclaimed in surprise, before the light from outside just as suddenly dimmed back to what it had been half a minute ago. The various staff in the _Kantei_ had scrambled to make sense of the event, doing their best to gather whatever information was available from the various ministries and local governments, while the prime minister had sat befuddled on a chair, although maintaining an outwardly stoic appearance. Then a stream of unnerving reports had followed. The JSDF had lost access to the GPS. The NHK and other media outlets had lost access to satellite data necessary for their weather forecasting. An increasing number of staff in the cabinet reported they had lost access to significant parts of the internet, and internet providers in Tokyo chimed in, saying they had basically lost access to all internet hosts outside Japan. As far as they knew, their ISPs could no longer connect to the rest of the world.

Panicked reports from NTT Docomo, SoftBank, and other mobile phone operators indicated that their services had been greatly disrupted and that international access had been lost. TV networks reported much of the same. It became hard for Minato to keep up and he began deferring "nonessential" reports to his aides.

And then came perhaps the most disquieting news: the major international airports of Haneda, Narita, Kansai and others reported that the few international arrivals that still flew to Japan, as the COVID-19 pandemic had significantly reduced air traffic, had disappeared on their way to the island country. Only airliners belonging to Japanese airlines remained in the sky. The Civilian Aviation Bureau had immediately ordered all aircraft in the country to be grounded, and those that had already taken off to immediately turn back to Japan.

And so a crisis meeting had been spontaneously conveyed, approximately one hour after that abnormal light had first occurred. Sitting in a room of minimalist decor made of light-colored wood panelings, the ceiling covered in two long strips of glass where the lights were installed, the meeting began immediately. Unlike with previous cabinets, Minato had mostly done away with the protocol of speaking in turns, in order to encourage more "open and dynamic discussions".

A staff member sitting next to the Minister of Defense Kichiro Nakano began reading from a report: "The Defense Intelligence Headquarters can confirm that Japan as of 8.26 p.m. has lost communications with the rest of the world, and the loss of communication likely covers all electronic areas. Moreover, the Civil Aviation Bureau-" he gave a short nod to the Minister of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism, "reported about twenty minutes ago that they, as well as Japan's major international airports, have lost contact with several airliners that were or are due to arrive in this country. The JSDF is preparing to dispatch several reconnaissance aircraft to the last known locations of the missing airliners in order to locate the missing civilian aircraft, and guide them to our international airports should that be necessary.

We have been trying to establish contact with the U.S. military in Guam and the contiguous United States through special military channels, and will provide further reports once the outcome of such attempts has been established. Our ministry is also holding an emergency meeting with the U.S. Forces in Japan at this very moment.

At this time we have not fully determined the cause or causes behind Japan's loss of communication with the rest of the world. We are awaiting further details as well as a preliminary assessment on hypothetical causes-"

"Was it a nuclear attack?!" one of the persons sitting close to the Minister for Foreign Affairs Hideaki Shinoda cut in. An eerie quiet filled the room for a few seconds.

Nakano hesitated before offering: "We can neither confirm nor deny the veracity of that statement."

That set off an explosion of questions and exclamations from many of the people at the meeting.

"Was that light a nuclear explosion?!"

"... North Korea? Or was it Russia?"

"What's the radioactivity?!"

"Radioactivity readings are as usual, at about 0.035 microsieverts per hour here in Tokyo," answered Nakano. "We haven't yet gotten data from all cities in the last hour, but the ones that have reported appear to have normal readings."

"Maybe it was a nuclear attack in space?" someone asked. "I heard those have quite an electromagnetic effect, disrupting electronics and all, and they could have wiped out all the satellites."

Nakano frowned. "Our Quasi-Zenith Satellite System appears to be intact. In fact, we are still receiving signals from most of our geostationary satellites, while we have yet to receive any signals from any non-Japanese satellites and other non-Japanese geosynchronous orbits. Also, much of Japan's telecommunications with other countries is carried through submarine communications cables… It is unclear how a high-altitude nuclear explosion could have for instance cut off our ISPs from the rest of the world while having no apparent effect on our power grids and other electronics. In any case, we are awaiting further data and have not yet finished our preliminary assessment."

Grappling with a serious lack of information and with no overarching protocol for how the meeting was to be further conducted, the conference devolved into several discussions involving different groups. Minato chose to listen in on the various conversations (which often involved people talking past each other).

"How's the situation with the stock market?" asked someone in the meeting.

"The Nikkei 225 Futures have fallen by over thirty percent, and is quickly approaching forty," stated someone near the Minister of Finance, and several people gaped. "While part of the fall is due to the rapid spread of the coronavirus in Osaka, the slide was only three percent before the loss of communication… For obvious reasons, we don't have access to data from markets outside Japan."

The Minister of Finance Satoshi Yamada chose then to remark: "We have been considering whether it be best to temporarily halt trading as the markets open tomorrow. What do you think, Minato-san? Just so I know what to say to the press outside this room later. I imagine they have a lot of questions."

Minato massaged his head against the coming headache as he imagined the coming torture that was the press conference. "Do what you think is best."


	2. No Russian

**No Russian**

Satoshi got what he wanted when the government announced the following morning that trading would be halted for the entire day. At the same time the Governor of the Bank of Japan Haruhiko Kuroda did a Draghi by promising to do "whatever it takes" to prevent the collapse of the Japanese markets. Minato suspected that trading would be halted for quite longer than a day.

But at this point market stability was not among the major issues that Minato was concerned about. Even the COVID-19 crisis, which had threatened to reach three thousand confirmed cases in the Kansai region alone the previous day, barely crossed his mind now. Instead, one thought dominated his mind more than any others… _What the hell was going on?!_

The missing airliners had still not been found. At this rate, Japan would have the world's worst commercial aviation accident on its hands, and the press would exorcise Minato and his cabinet even harder than they had done yesterday. The JMSDF had even started deploying almost its entire fleet of Aegis destroyers that had been available, in the hope that their radar systems, practically designed to locate and target air targets, would be able to locate the lost airliners. And the Japan Coast Guard had started sending out vessels to conduct underwater searches…

Minato exhaled deeply as he continued to look out the window from the Kantei. The views were, as always, excellent, the shades of green from the leaves and the needles filling much of his field of view. The trees before him almost gave the sense of a small forest, if one ignored the surrounding buildings of bricks and stone, as well as concrete and steel and glass, along with all other appearances of modern infrastructure. They would often provide him a measure of peace, yet today simply staring at the woody perennials proved to be not enough.

One cabinet staffer interrupted his musings. "Some ships that were scheduled to dock at Japanese harbors this morning seem to have disappeared," she said while handing out a report with her gloved hands, keeping her distance as some staffers were wont to do with the pandemic raging on, along with the growing use of surgical face masks. "In light of this, the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism has ordered all outbound ships to remain docked in Japan for the time being. The MLIT has also issued a recommendation that all ships registered in Japan that are currently at sea promptly return to Japanese waters." Minato could only wonder why it had taken the cabinet this long to decide in the first place. Given what had been found out earlier this morning, none of this should have been unexpected.

Minato took the report and quickly skimmed it through. Of course, the list of missing ships had to include oil tankers. _At least there won't be any more Diamond Princesses,_ he thought despondently. The only silver lining from the report was that the MLIT had confirmed that as many as fifteen percent of all ships registered in Japan that had been at sea yesterday had not disappeared as of 7.30 a.m. the present day, and they were being notified of the recommendation to recall to Japanese waters.

Staring out at the trees did nothing for his mood at this point. He knew what would; a brisk walk through the neighborhoods in and around Kasumigaseki. But he could not, had not been able to, for the past week, as new safety measures had been introduced because of the COVID-19. Instead, he had to stay and listen to the interminable reports, which were becoming increasingly troubling, and all the while he had to figure out how he was going to address the press with the most absurd news he himself had yet heard.

Apparently, around 5 a.m. in the morning the JMSDF had dispatched a P-3C Orion surveillance aircraft to the eastern end of Eurasia. The reconnaissance mission had been to gather intel on the situation on the Korean Peninsula, flying northward from its southeastern tip and turning back toward Japan just before reaching Russian airspace. It was hoped that more insight on the peculiar situation could be gained from surveying the state of the telecommunications infrastructure outside Japan, particularly in South Korea.

The officers on board had received instructions to avoid committing airspace violations as much as possible, and to be on watch for possible responses from the two Koreas. The fact that diplomatic relations with the North were strained was nothing new, but diplomatic ties with the South had also plummeted to perhaps a record low in recent times, and the higher-ups in Tokyo were concerned about possible reactions from the South Korean side over a Japanese military aircraft closing in on their country. Perhaps they could have sent some escort fighter jets to accompany the larger aircraft, but a military incident was something Tokyo wanted to avoid. The crew on board would also have to be careful when they later were to approach the airspace of the Russian Federation, another country Japan had uneasy relations with… Honestly, Minato could not think of a neighboring country that had decent relations with Japan.

But it turned out Minato and the Ministry of Defense did not have to worry about possible Korean responses. Because the peninsula was no longer there.

When this fact was communicated to the Ministry of Defense through the radio transmitter, along with some high resolution images of a blue sparkling sea at the supposed coordinates of Busan, it had sent the staff into a cacophony. Perhaps the navigation system was faulty, some suggested. After all, it was bereft of GPS navigation. So the aircraft was instructed to continue flying north, to where the southern tip of Primorsky Krai was supposed to appear, guided by radio navigation. With the tension palpable in the conference room, Nakano had excused himself for a smoke, which was quite out of character for him. It was clear he was frustrated by the tight-lipped attitude of the U.S. Forces in Japan. Apparently the Americans had not revealed anything not commonly known at their meeting with his cabinet yesterday.

The people at the Ministry of Defense had awaited with trepidation in the room the reports from the P-3C. More than an hour later, the voice of one of the pilots echoed in the room, and the gathered crowd fell into despair.

"No Russian lands."


	3. State of Emergency

**State of Emergency**

By 11 a.m., most cabinet offices had set up their own task forces to assess the consequences in the eventuality that Japan would not be able to resume communication and trade with the rest of the world, and also to draw up policy recommendations for dealing with such an extraordinary possibility. Minato, meanwhile, was slowly lumbering to the first press conference of the day.

What ensued was a glorified shouting match. Journalists from the major newspapers of the Asahi Shimbun, the Yomiuri Shimbun, the NHK, all seemed to believe the principle of getting their questions answered by way of shouting louder than everyone else. It seemed that with the growing crisis, everyone was eschewing proper conduct.

A sense of panic was starting to grip the nation.

Minato cleared his throat as he tried to answer as vaguely as possible the questions thrown at him. "We have not yet determined the causes behind the loss of electronic communication with the rest of the world," Minato answered a journalist from the Asahi Shimbun.

"There have been accusations that your cabinet is engaging in a massive cover-up, how do you respond to this criticism?!" a journalist asked, followed by other similar censorious questions.

"We are still trying to make sense of all the available information ourselves, and will continue to release more information after doing more verification," was the only thing Minato could say, a bit surprised by the brusque question. Indeed, for the information that his cabinet had gathered so far was so devastating, and the consequences of releasing it so far-reaching, that only after things had been fully ascertained could it be released to the public. Once this information was released, there would be no turning back.

In the end, Minato announced that he would address the nation in a speech this evening, when the situation would have become more clear to the government. Until then, all press conferences would be put on hold. He then refused to answer any more questions and staggered out of the room. He knew the importance of engaging with the press, but right now he was just so _tired_.

"Why?" he muttered to himself as he strolled through the Kantei.

"Takahashi-shushou!" Minato turned around to find himself facing a cabinet staffer, along with a middle-aged woman he didn't recognize.

Before Minato could respond with a "yes?", the woman went straight to the matter: "I am Sachiko Hirano from Reizeike Shiguretei Bunko. Have you heard about us?"

"... Yes. I seem to recall…" Minato raised an eyebrow. "You examined a recently discovered work of Murasaki Shibiku, correct? A lost chapter from The Tale of Genji, I think." _Why are we even having this discussion? With everything that is going on there is hardly enough time to care about some minutiae archeological finding!_

He received a nod. "Yes, during fall last year a written copy of the lost chapter was uncovered in a chest that was hidden in an old storeroom." Hirano looked around, seemingly to ensure that no one else was close by, before continuing in a low voice: "What no one knows was that there was a second manuscript, one we believe was actually handwritten by Murasaki herself. And it says… 'On the first day of a new month, and the first year of Reiwa already passed, shall Japan bear the last transference.'"

The words rang through his mind several times as he tried to make sense of them. "Are you saying that… that Murasaki predicted this event?" Minato said quietly, still unable to comprehend the full implications of what had been said.

"The date coincides perfectly with yesterday, at least."

"Is there anything more from that manuscript?" asked Minato.

"No, that's all that was written."

"In that case, we would like to procure it from your foundation."

About half an hour later Minato and several staffers were in a teleconference with JAXA.

"We are still processing our recent satellite images to ensure that the malfunctionings in the satellite system did not ruin the images. But it does seem like what used to be the Korean Peninsula, as well as the parts of Russia and China that our images would cover, is currently nothing but ocean. Moreover, some of our satellites and spacecraft have detected a significant change in the constellations of outer space, and the disappearance of bodies in our solar system… and the appearance of new bodies."

"?!" The discombobulation in the room was literally audible as several people shouted out loud.

Minato tried to navigate through the sea of clamors and asked the scientists at JAXA: "Are you unable to map out a larger area of our surroundings? I remember some other JAXA scientist telling me earlier today that the Quasi-Zenith Satellite System was temporarily out of commission."

"The Quasi-Zenith Satellite System is supposed to operate in combination with the GPS, as it is a satellite-based augmentation system. The loss of the GPS has, for a lack of better word, 'bugged out' the system, and the same applies to many other geostationary satellites operated by us and other Japanese organizations that were in some way integrated with non-Japanese systems that have now disappeared. We are working around the clock to resolve the issues as speedily as possible. Until then, we can only provide fairly limited satellite imaging on areas close to the Japanese archipelago."

Minato only nodded, as he was not sure the scientists on the other side would have been able to hear him above the other voices.

Around noon, the Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare released its daily report on the state of COVID-19 in Japan. Despite the fact that the number of confirmed cases had just passed the eight-thousand mark, hardly anyone paid attention, which said a lot about the present concerns of the government and the media. One cabinet staffer did note that, because a majority of the world's countries had imposed travel bans on people arriving from Japan since the COVID-19 pandemic, the number of Japanese people that had been overseas and hence gone after the "transference" was far lower than it would have been otherwise. Likewise, the number of tourists presently trapped in Japan was lower than it would have been without the pandemic. And then Minato and several other government officials had spent some time discussing what to do about those "trapped" tourists and other foreigners.

The afternoon passed quickly with the prime minister being briefed on this and that, and with the requests from his cabinet to take action as quickly as possible to forestall the impending disaster piling up, and his call with Naruhito in which he explained the entire situation to the Emperor. And then it was evening and time for Minato's speech to the nation, which would take place in the Diet with several media networks sending live.

And so he stood at the podium, being watched and heard by tens of millions of people, and after the customary greeting, began: "Based on evidence from JAXA, the JSDF, and many other agencies, the government has been forced to conclude that our country was suddenly transferred to a different planet. Even now the authorities are working overtime to find out more details about this unprecedented situation…" he continued speaking, urging calm and solidarity and to prepare for difficult times.

"Because of this extraordinary situation, we have concluded that we cannot safeguard the well-being and security of our citizens, whom we have pledged to serve, within our current mandate. Therefore, the government has decided to declare a state of emergency."


	4. New World

**New World**

By the next day, the Diet had passed numerous new laws in an unprecedented show of unity between the political parties, and other government agencies had worked overnight to introduce new measures. Food, oil, natural gas, and many other consumer and industrial goods were to be rationed. All domestic flights had been halted immediately to reduce oil consumption. Trains and subways were to run less frequently to reduce electricity consumption. A massive investment bill was being rushed through the Diet, targeting agriculture and fisheries. The Bank of Japan was considering extraordinary measures on liquidity injection to finance public spending and a reduction of the national debt. And having declared a state of emergency, the government used its newfound powers to forcefully charter most ships and planes that had belonged to private actors except for those registered in other countries.

Following the prime minister's address panic buying had ensued across all of Japan before the rationing measures could come into effect. Many stores and other retail markets, which had already struggled to resupply in pace with an earlier bout of panic buying caused by the COVID-19, had little to offer but empty shelves already in their opening hours. A growing sense of panic was gripping the nation.

Meanwhile, a heated discussion was taking place in a cabinet meeting in the Kantei.

"... coronavirus had already reduced oil consumption by an estimated twenty-five percent, it should be possible to reduce it further by at least the same amount. Our stockpiles could last a year, or longer."

"That's not enough! We must find a way to cover our needs!"

"Impossible. We simply do not have the reservoirs."

"And our LNG stockpile would only last a few weeks, now that's the real worry."

"Also, how's the food situation?" asked Naruhito, who had opted to leave the Imperial Palace to be present at the meeting.

"Your Majesty," began the Minister of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries, "our net food self-sufficiency ratio was estimated at thirty-seven percent in 2018, without taking into account the logistical disruptions caused by the transfer. In output value terms, the figure was sixty-six percent, and the production is quickly increasing. The reason for the net figure being so much lower is because of the massive amount of imported feed that we are unable to mass produce. At the same time, our self-sufficiency ratio of rice in output value terms is close to a hundred percent. So we'll have to encourage the consumption of rice before other grains, and encourage people to consume less meat. It might also be possible to substitute fish for meat to a certain extent, if parts of the surrounding ocean were transferred along with us from Earth," the minister finished breathlessly.

"Exactly!" exclaimed the Minister of State for the Tokyo Olympic and Paralympic Games, an elderly man whose responsibilities had been rendered obsolete by the transfer, and had therefore taken to remarking on everything that concerned other cabinets. "We are no longer on Earth, and therefore international agreements on fisheries no longer apply! Let us take full advantage of this fact!"

"I don't necessarily disagree," answered the Minister of Health, Labour and Welfare in a begrudging tone, "but since we are on a different planet, we need to be sure that the fish in this world are in fact edible, if fish even exist here. Especially with the already deteriorating situation surrounding COVID-19, the last thing we want to do is to introduce an entirely new disease to our country. Our immune systems have adapted according to the epidemiological situation on Earth after all, and not this unnamed planet."

"Metagenomic surveys of the surrounding ocean are underway," Minato said. "And oceanographic research should commence soon, I believe."

Naruhito turned toward him. "What should we do about the food crisis?" he asked, his normally mirthful face replaced by a downcast expression.

"Your Majesty, we are still awaiting more satellite imaging data from JAXA. I was told that within the next two days they would have mapped out everything within a three-thousand kilometer radius of our country. We have prepared several options depending on the results. In the best case scenario, there are other countries on this planet that we could procure our food, oil, gas, and other resources from, although we are assuming that that is unlikely. Our best hope is that we are surrounded by lands with abundant arable land for agriculture and natural resources, lands that we can quickly cultivate and extract from. We are also conducting hydrographic surveys of the surrounding seas in search of deep sea oil at this moment. Until then, we'll have to rely on increased domestic production and our food stockpile."

The Emperor nodded and considered Minato's words for a moment. "Is this why the government chartered all those ships?"

"Yes, we are preparing for a massive expedition should that be necessary."

"Speaking of oil and gas," the Minister of Economy, Trade and Industry interjected, "to reduce the consumption of hydrocarbons, our ministry and the Cabinet Office are both reviewing the option to immediately restart all our coal power plants that have been decommissioned, and to fast track the construction of newer coal power plants-"

"But that will be devastating to the environment!" said the Minister of the Environment.

But the Minister of Economy, Trade and Industry seemed to have been prepared for such an argument. "I spoke to some people at the Japan Meteorological Agency just before this meeting, and they told me that the CO2 in the atmosphere had been measured at just 249 ppm, which is the level the Earth was at before the industrial revolution. It would take Japan alone many centuries to push ppm levels to those on Earth today, and we have much more pressing issues to worry about. At any rate, Paris no longer exists on the map. Oh, and I also wanted to say that we should restart most of our decommissioned nuclear power plants."

"You can't know that CO2 levels on this planet only cause global warming at the same levels as it would on Earth," offered the Minister of the Environment weakly. "And besides, the environment comprises much more than just climate change... what did you just say about nuclear power?!"

Two days later in a conference room in the Kantei, Minato and his entourage stared at the provisional map, made up of many patched-together satellite images. The scientists at JAXA had cautioned that the mapping process was still ongoing and subject to changes within the day, and that errors were certain to appear in the current version they were being shown. Still, incomplete or not, it was their first cartographic record of this new world, and just seeing it for the first time filled Minato, and many others as well, he knew, with a genuine sense of relief. Even though recent reconnaissance missions by the JSDF had already given some idea what to expect, it was very different to actually see it mapped out.

The map covered a radius of about three-thousand five hundred kilometers from Japan on average, although the coverage stretched further to the west because of the design features of the Quasi-Zenith Satellite System, a legacy of Japan's former geographic position just off the eastern Eurasian mainland.

In the middle of the map was the familiar Japanese archipelago. To the west was nothing but sea, except for at the very edge of the map where land stretched from north to south, and continued westwards beyond the map. To the south, less than halfway between Japan and the edge of the map, a part of a massive landmass was present, and it looked to be fertile and full of rivers and lakes, and it was clear much of the land was beyond the map. And to the east there was another landmass, perhaps a little further away than the land to the south. It too looked fertile, but perhaps a little less so, as part of it was covered in mountain ranges and even a desert further inland. As with the two other landmasses, the land stretched beyond the edge of the map.

"We really are in a new world…" someone muttered absently.

One of the JAXA scientists on the other side of the video call said: "We have already had some people with knowledge in the topography and agronomy fields review the map as it is in its current state, and they all agree that the southern landmass has the highest potential for industrial agriculture. While it can't be fully ascertained to what extent this planet's biosphere resembles that of the Earth, if we extrapolate from the results of the oceanographic research that have been done so far, there is a high probability that the biosphere is very similar to that on Earth, not just in the oceans. There are of course some slight differences, such as the mountain range just below the desert of the east-"

"In other words, the south is where we should send our workforce," the Minister of State for the Tokyo Olympic and Paralympic Games commented.

The person from JAXA continued: "Given its size, it should also be reasonably endowed with other natural resources, hopefully including oil and gas, if hydrocarbons exist in those forms on this planet. Also, the southern landmass, unlike the eastern one, does not seem to be inhabited by post-Mesolithic societies."

"?!" The room became thunderous for a few moments.

"Yes, the east seems to be home to cities. Although the satellite imaging we have to work with for our analysis is still of an unsatisfactory quality, so we haven't been able to determine the characteristics of these societies. They-"

"Maybe we could buy food from the east then!" someone interrupted.

“I’m afraid that’s a highly uncertain possibility,” answered the JAXA scientist. “As I was about to say, our provisional assessment - with hasty input from the University of Tokyo - indicates that these societies seem to be pre-industrial and probably mostly non-urbanized. And most importantly, we find no evidence of industrial agriculture being practised anywhere on the landmass. Our current position is that it is highly unlikely they could provide enough for our consumption. That said, a more thorough inquiry with a panel of experts could be s-”

“No need for that,” interjected the Minister of Economy, Trade and Industry. “And realistically, there is no way we could forge such a substantive trade agreement in the short time needed. We don’t even know the functionings of the international trade system in this world.”

"How far away is the south?" asked Minato.

"The narrowest distance between the southern landmass and the Japanese mainland, or more specifically Kyushu, is a little over one thousand kilometers."

"Are we certain that the area is unclaimed territory?" cautioned the Minister of Justice. "We wouldn't want to risk inadvertently contravening international law."

But Minato shook his head. "The south it is," he decided as he rose from his chair. He turned to the other ministers, as a feeling of something other than anxiety visited him for the first time in many days. "Make the necessary preparations."

No, not a feeling. A sense of purpose.


	5. A Discovery at Sea

**A Discovery at Sea**

It was a race against time.

After an advance survey expedition had hastily determined the biosphere, the geological features, and the state of metagenomics on the southern landmass to be virtually identical to that on Earth, the Japanese government, in cooperation with the private sector, had scrambled to mobilize for the massive overseas projects that were to take place. An emergency meeting between Minato and Kuroda had then been held, and the Bank of Japan had agreed to back the Takahashi Cabinet's policy of immediately divesting in companies that were judged to "not be contributing to their full capacity." At the same time, companies that were participating were offered almost unlimited financing to support their operations. The result was that nearly the entirety of corporate Japan was rushing to participate in some capacity. Because of Minato's extreme policy measures - which was predictably condemned by the Asahi Shimbun -, the whole of industrial Japan was scrambling to mobilize at a pace not seen in at least seventy-five years.

The first wave alone involved the transport of more than two-hundred thousand workers and more than one million tons of industrial equipment to the southern landmass, which had quickly been dubbed "Shin Minami" by the media. As the economic and financial collapse caused by the transfer to the new world had led to an unprecedented number of job dismissals across Japan, finding workers willing to embark to these new lands had not proved too complicated, and the process of shipping them over to Shin Minami had been complete within two weeks. As they disembarked on the northern edges of the landmass, the workers found themselves in a place with vegetation and wildlife similar to that in Brazil, and completely devoid of human life.

The economic expedition, under the management of the government and dozens of private companies, urgently set itself to work. Apart from seeding the available arable land, agricultural workers set themselves with extracting the seeds of the naturally occurring plant crops to use for further seeding, given that the available stocks of seeds they had shipped from Japan would not give sufficient yields to feed the population back home. Astoundingly, most (or maybe all) of the naturally occurring plant crops were identical to those back on Earth, including wheat, potatoes, sweet potatoes, maize, soybeans, sorghum, legumes, coffee beans, and a variety of fruits and vegetables in large amounts - and almost all were of the 21st century, monoculture variant. Little rice, or many other crops historically common in Japan, however.

Yet this was only the beginning. The Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries estimated that at least 1.5 million agricultural workers would be needed in Shin Minami in the short term for Japan's food demand to eventually be satisfied. And the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry estimated that perhaps another three million workers and tens of millions in tons in capital equipment would be needed overseas to eventually meet Japan's demand for natural resources. The sheer scale of it all would almost certainly make this the largest overseas economic undertaking in human history. Back on Earth, at least.

Everything was being rushed as quickly as possible, even if quality of execution had to be sacrificed. Many Japanese organizers and executives gnashed their teeth at this fact, as it went against long-established Japanese management practises and a culture of meticulous planning and deliberation. Minato and other cabinet officials had even pressed private sector actors to eschew "unnecessary" bureaucratic and organizational practises and traditions, and to speed up decision-making procedures. Pressed by Minato, the government itself had massively downscaled its bureaucratic apparatus by cutting down on or overlooking rules, regulations, approval processes, and administrative and organizational traditions. The task of coordinating a project of such scale involving so many different actors was formidable and took up much of the government's governing capacity, and the number of civil servants had to be expanded by more than half. All of this was highly grueling for a country not used to such rapid and extreme actions and changes, but it had to be done.

For the fact was, Japan was running out of time.

Given the size of Shin Minami, the landmass should have more than enough natural resources to satisfy the demands of the Japanese economy, but the challenge was in setting up the projects, mostly the infrastructure and the logistics, which were a time-consuming endeavor. And the projects to extract natural resources _themselves_ required natural resources during the time they were being constructed and developed, and so did transportation and other logistical undertakings. In other words, if Japan's current stockpiles and meager reserves of natural resources, in particular oil, ran out before the projects started yielding meaningful results by adding more to the country's natural resources production than they required in return… Suddenly the word _deindustrialization_ took on an entirely new meaning in the eyes of government officials. For now, the allocation of the country's oil stockpiles were prioritized toward the hundreds of merchant and other ships that passed through the waters between Japan and Shin Minami.

In Japan, the economic rout was already making itself known. Think tanks were scrambling to forecast this year's annual GDP growth, with large ranges from -20% up to -50%. The Cabinet Office and the Bank of Japan had stopped publishing forecasts altogether, citing the unpredictable and fast-changing situation. The problem the economy was struggling with, aside from heavy rationing and a loss of overseas demand, was that much of the Japanese industrial sector had been reliant on foreign parts in their supply chains, and was therefore no longer able to manufacture many products. The industrial sector was scrambling to indigenize entire production processes, with heavy government support, but for the time being industrial production was plummeting.

Then there was the issue of all the foreigners who were now stuck in Japan. There was an ongoing debate on whether it still made sense to offer diplomatic immunity to diplomats who represented countries that no longer existed. The policy so far had been to offer an olive branch to any foreigner who would accept it, including diplomats and ambassadors, and even the occasional foreign government official who had happened to be in the wrong country at the wrong time.

"I understand the principle of offering Japanese citizenship to any foreigner who requests it, but is it really appropriate to scrap the requirement to renounce any previous citizenship? That would break with a long tradition."

Minato tilted his head. "It's not like it really matters, as their non-Japanese citizenship would be of countries that no longer exist."

Nakano did not seem entirely convinced by the answer, but left it at that. He leaned back in his chair, and stopped himself from pulling out a cigarette, by the looks of it. “I still don’t understand how this planet can be so similar to Earth in all aspects,” he muttered. “Everything from its radius to its gravitational acceleration, atmospheric pressure and composition, biosphere and terrain, everything. Monoculture crops identical to those on Earth, a happy coincidence? Even the climate and the ocean currents of Japan have barely changed!”

"A selection effect," Minato pointed out with a straight face. "Were the atmospheric pressure and composition too different, we would all have died almost instantly, thereby not sitting here pondering on the fact that everything is so similar to Earth."

Nakano snorted. "I see you are in a good mood today."

"I suppose… I got to enjoy some omakase at Masuda finally, after being trapped here in the Kantei for so long."

Nakano narrowed his eyes. "We are not supposed to be out. Didn't you read the report this noon? More than twenty thousand confirmed cases at this point, and the numbers aren't showing any signs of slowing down."

"Which is why I had to do it now rather than later. And how many have died?"

"Almost nine hundred… the mortality rate seems to be rising." Nakano sighed. "It's only a matter of time before the coronavirus makes its entrance in Shin Minami, if it hasn't already. I must say I'm surprised we haven't faced more censure by the press on this point, since we basically have no plan for dealing with the virus over there, or even a proper vetting system in place."

"It's something we'll have to accept…" Minato checked his watch. "Only four minutes until the conference." He rose from his chair.

* * *

"The search within this perimeter," the speaker pointed to an encircled part of the map, south of Japan, "has so far proved unfruitful. We will therefore change the perimeter for the seismic vessels and the drillships further southward…" Minato listened to the report while also reflecting on the situation.

So far, they had yet to find any oil at sea. While vast reservoirs of some hydrocarbons such as natural gas had been uncovered in Shin Minami, so far they had only successfully found some oil in the continent's northern desert region, and the reservoirs there would only be able to provide about half a million barrels of oil per day once the wells had been set up, far from enough for Japan. The teams responsible for offshore oil exploration (which, confusingly, were under various cabinets as well as some private companies) did as well as anyone could have under the punishing circumstances - the race against time - yet as the speaker continued the briefing a question was starting to bug Minato, and in the end he could not refrain from voicing it out loud.

"Why the south?"

The speaker stopped dead in her briefing. "Pardon, Takahashi-shushou?"

"So far the exploration missions have always been to the south of Japan, correct?" He received an affirmative. "Why only in that direction?"

"I- There isn't really any specific reason, except that is where we started, so we might as well have the entire south covered in our search before moving on in a different direction. At least I think that has been the reasoning."

"I see… would it perhaps be possible to divert your ships to diversify the geographic areas you are searching? And send some to the north, west, and east of Japan."

The speaker blinked. "Well, that's up to you to decide…"

* * *

Standing on the bridge, Captain Daichi looked out over the foggy seas. He preferred the clear blue skies of the south to the overcast and drizzle that seemed to be more common in these northern parts, at least during this time of the year. Or maybe he had just been unlucky.

"We are approaching the target destination," Daichi sounded out to the deck officers. "Time to slow down."

Soon _Chikyū_ had stopped, and it was time to drill. Based on data from the seismic tests, this area showed unusually great promise, and Daichi had hopes that _finally,_ they would be able to find some black gold.

After lowering the anchor and adjusting the propellers to achieve better stability, the work began. Over the next hour, several crew members worked meticulously in the rain, lowering pipes into the sea. Daichi was relieved that the weather, despite being rather uninviting, did not produce significant currents or waves. If it had, they could not have proceeded to the next stage.

Slowly, the drill was lowered into the dark grey waters. It was to sink to a depth of about 1,500 meters, where the seabed was.

"We have reached the floor," confirmed a crew member.

"Good." Daichi took a quick glance at his clock. "You have three hours before I call it a day."

A day passed, and while the weather conditions had not changed, the last of the work was eventually done, and the results were in.

"Amazing, this ocean floor is practically a black hold mine…" murmured a crew member. Daichi had to agree, that was an impressive amount of oil that had sat under the seabed.

Suddenly a crew member entered the bridge. "Our sonic equipment has picked up some abnormal readings."

"Huh? Let me see." Daichi quickly scanned through the computer-written report. He frowned, before reading it again. Then he looked up from the piece of paper in his hand, and his whole demeanor seemed to have changed.

"Raise the pipe and raise the anchor!" Daichi ordered. When the officers loitered, he added, "Now!" The officers quickly went to work.

"Reset the position of the propellers," he spoke quickly to the deck officers as he paced back and forth on the bridge. "Once you are done with your instructed tasks, get inside the ship!" he announced through the public address system so that everyone in the ship could hear his words.

He then stared out of the window at the left of the bridge and said: "Full steam ahead."

The crew looked at him as if he had grown several heads. "The anchor isn't even fully raised, not to mention-"

"Just do it!" Daichi barked.

The ship quickly started picking up pace, and several crew members struggled to keep balance at the sudden acceleration and at the slight vibrations. As one deck officer spun to face the front window of the ship as he tried to regain his footing, he gasped and then pointed and shouted.

Out there in the fog and barely visible, about half a nautical mile in front of the ship, something stirred in the waters. That area of the sea was bubbling, and it seemed to be moving…

"Something is approaching the ship!" someone yelled.

Daichi stood frozen for a few seconds, then he rushed to the steering wheel and spun heavily to the right. The ship immediately started to turn, but, to his dismay, so did the disturbance in the water moving toward them, now producing a large foam and waves as it cleaved through the water, perhaps five hundred meters away and coming closer and closer.

Then something more than just water emerged from the foam; a pair of shiny jaws, larger than those of a bowhead whale and filled with hundreds of glinting white teeth, and then more of its body became visible: The head was long and angular. A bony crest jutted out over the eyes, and from the outer part of each crest grew a ropy tendril that was over two meters in length. The neck of the creature resembled that of a giant, rippling snake. What was visible of the creature's torso was smooth and powerfully built and looked incredibly dense. A pair of oar-shaped flippers extended from the sides of its chest, flailing helplessly in the air.

In the second or two that had passed, Daichi realized that no matter how much he tried to turn, whatever was in the water would be able to change its direction more easily than the ship. If a head-on collision was inevitable, it was better for them if the ship was not half-listing, and for the _thing_ in the water to collide with the front of the ship rather than the left side of a ship that was tilting toward the opposite side, so Daichi quickly reversed and steered to the left as much as possible.

Time seemed to slow down as the distance with the monster closed. Then, less than two hundred meters until collision, Daichi caught its eyes; if they could be called even that. They stuck out of the head and were as black as a drop of tar, and full of malevolence…

Then he felt it. An immense pressure forced its way into his very mind, and he fell to his knees with a half-choked cry. He could not move, and the pressure continued its attack, digging deeper into his pounding head, and a ringing started to fill his ears…

Then the pressure stopped, and Daichi once again found himself in control of his limbs. A second later, an ear-splitting metallic thud echoed through the bridge. The ship started to vibrate and shake uncontrollably, and swayed violently from side to side, and he was suddenly reminded of that terrible earthquake back in March 2011. Screams filled the bridge.

Despite the throbbing in his head, he quickly rose, only to falter as stars danced before his eyes. Even as he tried to regain his bearings he rushed to the windows, almost losing his balance to the rocking movements of the ship, and scanned desperately for the monstrous sea serpent. He found it just to the left of the ship. It lay sideways and still; apparently the force from the collision had been enough to slow its momentum and knock it to the side, as well as shift its body more than ninety degrees on its side. As the ship was still moving forward, though occasionally brushing against the monster, they quickly passed it, and eventually the edge of the windows blocked Daichi's line of sight to the monstrosity.

Daichi shaked all over as he looked over at his crew, and found many of them on their knees.

"W-what…" someone stuttered.

"Did you feel it too?!" someone else demanded in a shrill voice. "It… that… something entered my consciousness!" Several affirmatives sounded on the bridge.

Daichi walked over to the steering wheel on shaky legs. "Full steam ahead," he said weakly.


	6. The Emperor's Suggestion

**The Emperor's Suggestion**

_Yokota Air Base. April 29, 2020_

Lt. Gen. Kevin Schneider frowned as his character was again defeated by the Ebony Warrior. Deciding to take a break, he rose from the computer chair. Taking a beer from the fridge, he started to gulp down its contents. He could not help but lament the taste of Asahi, it had nothing on Budweiser from back home…

He immediately stopped his train of thought before it would take him to darker places, but did not entirely succeed. To distract himself, he decided on yet another rematch with the Ebony Warrior. Perhaps he could try to lure his opponent to the edge of a cliff and shout him to his falling death.

A month ago, he could not imagine he would spend most of his time on duty killing time before a computer screen. Yet, what else was there to do?

The modern military ran on oil. A fact he knew but had never had to worry about, since the commodity had always been readily available on demand. America would always ensure that all its military forces, regardless of where on Earth they were, would remain generously supplied.

That had all changed on April 1. Suddenly they had found themselves in another world, America gone, and Japan had virtually cut off access to all its oil for the U.S. Forces in Japan.

Schneider had immediately appealed to the Japanese government, but he was unable to change their minds. The argument Japan provided had been straightforward: Food shortages and a massive fall in standards of living were larger security threats than military conflicts with foreign forces. Therefore, supplying oil to the logistics line between Japan and the new continent, the projects over there, as well as the oil exploration missions at sea needed to take priority over everything else in order to maximize security (implying that less oil for the U.S. forces increased security), and with their meager stockpiles they had no oil left to spare them. Yet it did not escape Schneider's notice that the JSDF was still as well-supplied with oil and other fuels as always.

Of course, lack of oil was not the only problem for the U.S. forces here. Military equipment needed constant maintenance and spare parts (the U.S. military spent more money on operations and maintenance than China and Russia combined spent on their entire militaries). Japan had refused to shoulder this burden, explaining that the entire Japanese industrial sector, which had been greatly disrupted by the transfer, was already at full capacity providing for its citizens and the overseas economic projects through this crisis. But this meant that eventually when American military equipment started breaking down, it would remain that way and could not be replaced.

Taken together, and the U.S. Forces in Japan had been paralyzed. Most personnel could not even afford to continue training, as a lot of training consumed fuel and ammunition, and further deprecated their military equipment, which they had to save for as long as they could. And lacking instructions from the American government, as well as no military security threats in this world that needed to be addressed, many of the personnel at Yokota were unsure what their role now was. At least Japan still paid their personnel, even if most spent their time on duty playing video games, partying, and the like. And with the rising food and fuel costs, their pay started to mean less and less.

He wondered about the situation back home. The disappearance of America's unsinkable aircraft carrier in the Asia-Pacific had probably been a huge blow to his country's strategic position. The U.S. had also lost a significant military ally; while it was not commonly known, Japan had possessed the most powerful navy among all of Washington's global partners. And it certainly did not help that much of the U.S. Seventh Fleet, the largest of America's numbered fleets, had been lost along with it. Just how was America to face a rising China with its diminished prospects? He would just have to place his faith in President Trump to pull his country through these trying times.

Then there was the other source of tension between his forces and the Japanese government: for more than two weeks now Japan had pressured them to negotiate over control of the airspace over Japan. The U.S. forces controlled much of the airspace over central Japan, and Japan had made it clear for some time that it wanted some of it back. At the instructions of the U.S. government, Schneider and those before him had consistently refused to negotiate the issue, except for minor changes, and there was nothing Japan had been able to do about that. But with America now gone, Japan had started to intensify its pressure that they negotiate the issue. Schneider, like all other U.S. personnel, had sworn the Oath of Enlistment, meaning he would always have to serve the U.S. government for as long as he was in service. And since the U.S. position had always been that they retain control of the airspace over central Japan…

He was really torn about this.

* * *

"It is a common misconception," began a professor of neuropsychiatry, "to believe that the 'mind' exists separate from the body. There is in fact no evidence for the existence of the mind, as opposed to the physiological states of the body. Some describe this as the mereological fallacy."

They were sitting around a round table in a square-shaped room, with the familiar minimalist wood paneling theme typical of Japanese interior design, where Nakano and other officials from the Ministry of Defense were attending another meeting with a panel of experts.

Nakano nodded. He had heard similar explanations from other professors and scientists both in this and previous meetings with expert panels. "In that case, why do you think almost all the deck officers claimed they 'felt' something enter their 'minds'?"

The professor tilted his head. "There is insufficient data to make anything conclusive out of that. For all we know, they could have just imagined it. Although I confess that it is statistically unlikely for that to happen to so many at the same time. Perhaps that sea animal performed some sort of sonic attack? Just take any claims of 'mind control' or 'psychic attacks' with a great dose of skepticism however. Such concepts are almost as unscientific as magic."

Nakano and the rest of his ministry discussed the issue for a little longer with the gathered experts before adjourning the meeting, and he walked out of the room to the main parts of the Kantei. Normally such a briefing, as well as the rest of his job, would have taken place in the headquarters of his ministry in Ichigaya, but in order to save fuel, they could not afford to regularly have staffers from various cabinets commute across the city, and so many functions of other ministries had increasingly moved to the Kantei.

Looking out of one of the numerous windows, where sounds of commotion could be heard, he saw the hundreds of anti-nuclear protesters who had assembled just outside the building, many of whom were striking their clubs against the wall of riot police officers. A few were even throwing molotov cocktails.

Nakano turned away from the sight and hoped things would not turn even more agitated. While protests in Japan rarely became violent, it appeared that the mass unemployment, growing number of people being idle, and the fall in standards of living had started to spill over into greater dissatisfaction, and more demonstrations were being seen as a result in Tokyo and elsewhere. For their part, the Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare was worried about the massive gatherings accelerating the transmission of COVID-19.

But the government could not budge on the nuclear power issue. Yes, numerous post-Fukushima safety regulations were being skirted to allow the mass restart of most nuclear power plants, but the frequency of earthquakes had significantly decreased since the transfer; the risk of tsunamis hitting Japan had been substantially downgraded as a result. And they desperately needed the additional power to offset the loss of LNG energy generation, not to mention the net reduction in oil consumption the restarts would bring.

For the same reason, they could not stop the planned offshore oil projects in the north. Damned sea monster...

It had been two days since that incident had shook the entire Cabinet Office. The shell-shocked deck officers had called the relevant authorities and frenziedly explained the situation.

A creature large and heavy enough to significantly shake the Chikyū on impact. A creature that actually deliberately swam into collision course with the ship. And a creature that had astonishingly immobilized several deck officers through a 'psychic attack'.

None of it made sense, the biologists, the zoologists, and the neuroscientists had told him. A creature capable of causing such rockings to Chikyū had to be significantly heavier than even a blue whale, which was not metabolically feasible. And marine animals did not intentionally swim into ships. And, as that distinguished professor from the University of Tokyo had just told him, mind attacks were impossible because the mind did not technically exist. But unlike what the professor had offhandedly suggested, it was almost certainly not a sonic attack, because the sonic equipment on the ship had not picked up on anything of the like.

Nakano sighed. It was typically Japanese to deliberate about the details and avoid taking action. They needed to act, and quickly, if Japan was to survive as an industrialized country. What he planned to do regrettably went against some conservation laws and treaties, and he would undoubtedly receive protests from wildlife conservation organizations, but the sea monster had started it with its attack. It needed to be stopped before it could further disrupt oil rig projects. In fact, given its unknown powers and aggression the creature could realistically be seen as a security threat that needed to be dealt with.

It was time to call in the JMSDF.

* * *

The two _Kongō_ -class destroyers reduced their speeds as they arrived at the project site to the north of Japan, where several offshore oil platforms were being assembled, joining several other destroyers and other naval ships that were already guarding the area. They took their spots at the designated positions, forming a defensive ring around the project sites. Dozens of ships and tens of thousands of workers were participating in the assembly of the platforms, far more than was usual for such projects. With this many people involved, they hoped to have the first oil rigs in production within less than six months.

Captain Ichiro looked outside from the bridge of the Kongō-class ship as he sipped on his green tea. It was a clear day, with barely any clouds hanging in the bright blue sky. Looking over at the sparkling blue water, he was seriously considering taking a dip later if time would permit. Though he imagined it would be rather cold up here in the north.

He was interrupted from his musings by one of the officers, who burst out: "Active sonar has detected a large submarine target! Distance, nineteen kilometers. Depth, 1,200 meters." The officers then communicated this to the other naval ships in the fleet.

Ichiro felt a rush of excitement. Finally some real action for once in his life, instead of one of those drills. "Tell them we'll handle this," he said. "Good, then let us approach until we are five kilometers from the target. Remember the instructions from HQ."

About twenty minutes later a remotely operated underwater vehicle had been lowered into the sea. Per the instructions, they needed to acquire target identification to determine whether they could proceed to the next stage of the operation. The officers waited patiently as the underwater vehicle approached its intended target. Finally, it was close enough that it became visible as headlights shone on the target, and the live footage was sent to video screens on the ship.

"That's it!" one of the officers exclaimed. "The sea monster!"

It did look very much like the target description they had received. Even though not all of it was visible, it was certainly large, and its angular head and tendrils made it look very distinctive. Its jaws were enormous, the hundreds of teeth clearly visible before the cameras as they seemed to come closer…

"Communications lost! The vehicle has stopped sending signals!"

"'Aggressive' is an understatement," muttered another officer. "That marine creature attacks everything in sight..."

"Target is starting to move toward the surface!"

Ichiro saw no point in delaying any further. "Once it is less than three hundred meters from the surface, fire two ASROCs at the target with a twenty second interval between launches," he commanded. "And remember to maintain the minimum four kilometer perimeter to avoid its strange attacks." They were lucky that the sea creature did not attempt to move toward them from greater depths where their torpedoes could not reach it, before resurfacing from right under them. Not that they would have allowed that to happen, with the countermeasures they had in place.

After the sea creature had approached the designated depth, the missiles were fired in succession from the ship's vertical launch cells. A deafening boom was heard and smoke trails were visible in the sky. The torpedoes separated from the missiles close to above of where the submerged creature was, and slowly fell into the sea by parachute, where they activated upon contact with the water. The sea creature in question seemed to have stopped its ascent at a depth of around fifty meters, and instead began to move toward the direction of their ship.

One of the officers began a countdown. "Time on target in 7...6...5…

Ichiro shivered as he suddenly felt an invisible _presence_ in his head, not so potent that it would force him to his knees, but it still clearly impacted his motor functions. And it appeared he was not the only one feeling _something,_ as the officer doing the countdown had abruptly stopped.

Seconds later it stopped as a geyser-like eruption was seen some kilometers away. "S-successful hit," an officer stammered. About twenty seconds later, another wide column of white water was seen in the distance.

* * *

With the strange mind attacks having been reported by several naval officers, including the commanding officer, the cabinet could no longer ignore the issue, and a task force was quickly set up to investigate and research the issue further. So far, the only information they had was that the intensity of its attacks were possibly affected by distance, as the naval officers had been much less affected than the officers aboard Chikyū. And results from national laboratories, who were to study some body parts of the creature that were to be raised from the depths, would not be available for many more months. Outside the government, the reports of the mind attacks sent shocks through academia, the scientific community, and many ordinary Japanese people. News media featured editorials proclaiming that human understanding of physiology had been forever altered by these incidents. Many were still skeptical, however.

Luckily, no other member of the same species had been sighted as another month went by. Indeed, things were starting to look up for various overseas economic projects. Sufficient oil reservoirs at sea and on land had been discovered that would last Japan many years, once the wells and rigs had been assembled.

In Shin Minami, more than 50,000 square kilometers of arable land had been cultivated by the start of June, with the size still expanding. Apparently, the enormous swaths of arable land stretching much of the northern shores of the continent, and bordered by massive subtropical and tropical forests, were some of the most fertile lands ever observed, at least by Earth standards; with continuous flat terrain, fertile soil, an overabundance of river deltas, and heavy rainfall seasons yet long sunshine durations, this region would eventually become an ideal agricultural production center. The widespread amount of monoculture plant crops identical to those on Earth that were found naturally occurring there also helped immensely, with their seeds used to scale up seeding and the produce shipped back to the Home Islands.

The first major crop harvest from intensive agriculture, on the other hand, was a few months away. Sure, the estimated annual cereal yield per hectare was a paltry two thousand kilograms compared to six thousand in Japan, but that was what you got when quality of execution was sacrificed for speed, especially with regards to soil fertilization.

The expedition had also found abundant reserves of uranium, coal, iron, bauxite, phosphorus, and even some rare-earth minerals. And all for Japan.

With the passing month, the overseas economic projects caused some disagreements between some regional governments, and some property and rent disputes between a few corporations in Shin Minami. There had also been a minor diplomatic incident, which culminated in Minato arriving at the Embassy of Panama to issue a formal apology and express deep regrets on behalf of Japan. Evidently, the Osaka Municipal Government had thought it was within their legal constraints to seize the Panama-registered vessels docked in Osaka for the purposes of bolstering shipping capacity and reducing bottlenecks at their harbors, all in the interest of improving logistical efficiency relating to the overseas economic projects. It had been up to Minato to resolve the diplomatic incident. And twenty minutes after his meeting with the Ambassador of Panama, he was in the Kantei.

"... expect to achieve self-sufficiency in the production of these key natural resources between the second half of and the end of Reiwa 3," Minato supplied to Naruhito.

As usual for these types of conferences, they were sitting in a wood-paneled room. Minato and his cabinet had gathered to give the Emperor a thorough briefing, and to discuss further policy goals of the government beyond the acute economic ones.

Naruhito nodded. His face seemed to have regained some of the lost mirth since the start of the transfer.

"Your Majesty, we have also decided to release the stored water at the Fukushima nuclear plant directly into the ocean," added the Minister of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism, "and we assure you that the concentrations are so small they would have zero impact on the ecology of the oceans." The Minister of the Environment could be heard cracking her knuckles.

"Very well," said Naruhito. His gaze then fell on the only piece of visual art hanging in the room; a woodblock print belonging to Hokusai's _Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji_ series. "When I look upon that work, one of the last by the great Hokusai, I am reminded of the closing of a past era. I am reminded of the end of sakoku, of our policy of self-isolation from the rest of the world." He leaned forward. "Tell me, when is the end of our unofficial sakoku in this world?"

Minato frowned. "Your Majesty, we have thus far been so preoccupied with the immediate crises that few in our cabinet have even given a thought about opening up relations with the rest of the world." _And still are,_ Minato added silently. "We are also constrained by international law treaties that prevent us from entering the territories of other states. We do know this; no society in this world has reached the industrial revolution, confirmed by the lack of lights at night in our satellite images, a lack of radio signals, a lack of greenhouse gas emissions, and other indicators."

"Besides," said the Minister of Health, Labour, and Welfare, "it would be irresponsible of us Japanese to interact with other societies with the COVID-19 situation at home, as we are approaching fifty thousand confirmed cases. We would be spreading the virus to the rest of the world."

"We could require comprehensive PCR testing of anyone who visits other inhabited lands," someone else suggested.

"The press and many other ordinary Japanese people have started to wonder about the lands to the east," said the Minister for Foreign Affairs Hideaki Shinoda. "A recent poll in the Asahi showed that more than 70% would support government efforts to try to open up relations with the societies there. If we tarry for too long, we might risk producing dissatisfaction unnecessarily."

It was clear Minato was still hesitant about the prospect. But reluctantly, he offered the following: "We could start setting up task forces and expert panels to study and review how to best go about this. If everything goes smoothly, we might be prepared to send out our first expedition to the eastern continent in a few months."


	7. The Red Seal Ship

**The Red Seal Ship**

_RIKEN Centre for Brain Science. Reiwa 2, mid July_

The research team was staring at the generated results displayed on the supercomputer. The lead researcher of the "Preliminary Quantification of Idiosyncratic Electromagnetic Spectrums on Cognition" project banged his fists on a grey table. "It can't be!" he hollered.

The other researchers, technicians, and engineers were looking at him nervously, some shifting uneasily. "Should we run another test?" one of them asked carefully.

"... No," the lead researcher muttered. Grudgingly, he added: "these are likely the only results we will get."

Nods and affirmatives were seen and heard from the others in the research team. The tense atmosphere in the sizable lab slowly abated to a more relaxed one, and soon people started talking excitedly, discussing the significant findings of their project.

"I can't wait to be featured in the NHK along with you guys," someone said.

"Right you are," someone else agreed. "This finding, groundbreaking right? The ones at Tokyo University never managed to crack it, hah!"

"Still, this might be good for our careers, but the actual discovery is very unnerving. If the sea serpent can actually sense and influence cognition, perhaps even motor behavior, of external organisms, who's to say they're the only ones? Can we humans handle this new problematic?"

"Another thing that boggles me," one of the senior researchers said, "is that if it was this obvious that a specific wavelength and frequency of electromagnetic radiation could achieve… 'mind control', then why wasn't this discovered long ago by the scientific communities in America, or the EU, or Britain? Or China today?"

"Because this isn't Earth," the lead researcher interjected unexpectedly. He had been raving to himself away from the rest of his team, but it seemed he was finally composed enough to join their discussion. Suddenly, as he said his next few words, his exasperation seemed to make a lot more sense.

"The results strongly imply that some fundamental physical law or laws operate differently than before the transfer."

* * *

_The next stop is Komaba-tōdaimae._

Tsubasa looked up from his feet at the soft sound of the train announcement. Slowly he rose from his seat in the train and, doing his best to avoid the personal space of other passengers, stepped out of the doors.

The familiar chirping of birds welcomed him as he walked across the tree-covered Komaba Campus of the University of Tokyo. Cries of seagulls sounded as they glided across a blue sky. A sky turned bluer ever since the transfer.

Tsubasa's feet worked on autopilot as they took him to the classroom for today's lecture on Turkic linguistics, one of the few courses that had resumed in-person classes since the pandemic.. Quietly he slipped into the seat of an empty row, mindful to avoid the ones that were already taken. As the minutes went more students filled into the room, greeting each other and taking seats in the rows except the one he sat at, which he didn't mind.

He didn't.

The lecture started and seemed to drag on for quite some time. Then lunch break came around, and he promptly vacated the campus. He absently scoured through the nearby restaurants and eateries to see if anything new had been set up. Ever since the transfer, seafood based donburi, sushi and sashimi, and other seafood based dishes had become the staple, reflecting the relative abundance of fish and rice, compared to many other food products. At least it was always fresh.

After munching on some minced tuna and salmon roe temakis in a small and empty restaurant, he took a stroll around the neighborhood. As in the restaurants, few people were seen outside. To control the spread of COVID-19, the Tokyo governor had persistently urged social distancing, and the effects were becoming apparent.

Eventually Tsubasa made it back to the campus for the second part of the lecture. Again he sat in an empty row and took in what was said, and then the class ended and he briskly made it out the door…

"Ah, Tsubasa-kun! It was a while ago."

Tsubasa stiffened at the voice. He slowly turned around and found himself face to face with a bespectacled, middle-aged man. Like most others nowadays, his lower face was covered with a surgical face mask.

"Kaito..." Tsubasa acknowledged haltingly.

* * *

Thousands of buildings of many shapes and sizes rolled by the train window as it traversed the heart of Tokyo on the Yamanote Line. Even after all those years living in it, the sheer scale of it all still awed Tsubasa. The city felt like its own world, far removed from the rest of the planet, stretching as far as the eye could see and with everything so interconnected it sometimes felt like a single organism. Although London and Paris were far more globally relevant, they had never invoked in him the same sense of scale.

"I heard you are making quite a breakthrough in the linguistics field," Kaito remarked as they exited the train, arriving on a half-empty railway platform. "Only twenty-one, and already a doctoral degree in Austronesian languages. Tell me, how many languages do you speak at near fluency?"

"Maybe five," Tsubasa answered warily as they walked to the next railway platform.

Kaito got a glint in his eye. "As you know, nowadays I am an employee at the foreign ministry." After not receiving any affirmatives, he continued: "The foreign ministry is looking for people with special competences to embark on an expedition… an expedition to the lands in the east," he finished meaningfully.

"Are you telling me this because...?"

"Yes, I would like to offer you the opportunity to be part of this expedition, considering your linguistic talents and your other… gift. You will get paid well, of course," he added. He fished for a set of papers in his bag. "Here are more specific details on job descriptions and the nature of the expedition itself." He held them out to Tsubasa.

But if Kaito thought he could sway Tsubasa with such an offer, he was mistaken. Tsubasa had already been abroad this winter to early spring, albeit it was on a different planet than now.

His impressions, while in Western Europe for a few university seminars, were that Japanese people were quite resented. No sooner than he had disembarked the plane, and the locals had been looking at him suspiciously and some with loathing. People would harass him on the street with the words "corona", "virus", and "bat-eater". He had then been beaten up by violent-looking youth yelling those words. A few students upon finding out his nationality had made rants against Japanese people and culture because of the country's commercial whaling program; he doubted they felt the same way toward Norway, Denmark, Canada, and other countries with larger whale catches than Japan. Taken together, his experiences overseas had been pretty unpleasant.

"I think I'll stay here," Tsubasa answered curtly. He rose from his seat on the platform as the train he was waiting for arrived. The doors opened, and his feet started moving...

"You know," Kaito said so quietly Tsubasa barely caught on, "the mountains to the east are far higher than even Mount Everest."

Tsubasa froze. A few moments later, the doors of the train had closed.

* * *

About two hundred people were gathered in a large conference room in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs's headquarters, where high-ranking officials from the ministry were explaining the parameters and the conditions of the expedition to the prospective employees. The main objectives of the expedition were to make first contact with the inhabitants of one of the main coastal cities of the eastern lands and learn more about their societies, without revealing anything about their level of technological and scientific advancement.

"Because of the passing of the 'New World Technology Outflow Prevention Act', us various ministries and agencies have been unable to send drones close enough to the eastern lands for any sort of surveillance mission," one of the officials explained. "We have no data as to the architecture of the cities or the clothing and the appearances of the peoples. The only things the satellites have gathered is that the port city you are meant to land on has one of the busiest shipping activities on the continent, and is bordered by a longitudinal mountain range to the east. We estimate the population, from the overview, to be no more than twenty thousand." The official sipped a glass of water, then continued:

"The New World Technology Outflow Prevention Act has significantly affected the conditions of this diplomatic and exploratory expedition. The strict formulation of that law means that, for the time being, you are not permitted to bring any piece of technology that originated during the first industrial revolution and onward, nor are you allowed to divulge the existence of such technologies to any locals you might meet. There are a few exceptions, such as medicines, glasses - although they will have to be refitted with older-looking frames - and radio comms, solar-charged laptops, and mini cameras and recorders that you must keep hidden from the peoples you come in contact with. You will not be allowed to bring surgical masks."

"How are we to get there at all then?" one of the ones gathered asked.

The official said with a wry smile: "The same way that got us to Spain in 1614: The old-fashioned sailing ship."

"..."

"Specifically, you will be using a red seal ship," the official helpfully added. "You know, from the early Edo period. Which is also why the size of the expedition is limited to two hundred people, as those ships can't fit that many more. Of course, the ship in question has been somewhat refurbished to be slightly faster and less rocky. And you will be towed about half way by motor ships."

"Are we to pretend to come from a Japan of the 18th century?!" someone burst out.

"Ahh… well, that's kinda the idea. We have the Diet to thank for that." It was clear he was struggling to hold back a grin. "I hope you are all familiar with kimonos and yukatas? Good! Because you won't be wearing anything else for a while, should you embark on this expedition."

"So we are basically edo cosplayers," someone muttered.

The official raised an eyebrow. "Cosplayers don't have real katanas." His expression then turned more serious, and he said: "The government cannot guarantee the safety of anyone who embarks on this expedition. There is nothing we can do if any or even all of you should get detained, imprisoned, tortured, or executed. This is because of Article 9 of our constitution, which forbids our country from using any force for settling disputes with other countries or societies, and because we do not wish to further violate international laws. Neither are we responsible for the risks to your health during your expedition, including the risk of contracting novel diseases. You will all have to sign a form that will absolve the government of any responsibilities toward your rights for the duration of the expedition.

The official paused, then continued: "As you should already know, and this will be repeatedly stressed throughout our preparations, this expedition is strictly speaking illegal under international law. Our country is extremely likely to violate Article 2 of the UN charter by infringing on other state's territorial rights without prior permission from those states, as well as the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, Section 2, and other treaties. You will have to sign another form which affirms that the government has informed you about this, so that we cannot be held accountable for not having informed you of this beforehand. Guidelines for managing diplomatic incidents because of this are provided for in the manuals, which include offering an official apology on behalf of our government, and offering to negotiate compensation to the injured state. I know, this doesn't seem very useful, but this is the only way we can conduct our foreign relations according to our laws and signed treaties. Any questions?"

"If I'm understanding correctly... The states in the eastern lands aren't members of the UN and haven't signed any treaties, but you are still sure that they should be... that we should act as if they are? Also, how can we be sure that there are even "states" in the modern sense?" an unnamed person asked.

"This has been the Ministry of Foreign Affairs's position with respect to non-members of the UN and their rights under the UN Charter for decades. As for the other question, we don't know how the system or systems of international relations operate on this planet, but our laws and international treaties do not allow us to conduct foreign relations any differently than we did back on Earth in any case. Trust me, this question has been a major source of headaches for the international relations experts and lawyers in our ministry... Any other questions?"

"What are we to eat?" another unnamed person asked.

"As the manual says, the ship will be stored with MREs for you all. Which you are not to show to the locals of course. Once you arrive you are encouraged to try and sample the culinary scene of the city, with the gold and silver coins that you will be provided."

“Coins?” someone expressed. “But the coins you’ll give us are not their coins; why would they accept them? In Japan we only accept yen as physical payment, and even older yen bills and coins are rejected. Also how do you even know they settle trade with coins in their... system of exchange? Could they not be doing barter trade or have some form of...” the unnamed person paused, seeming to search for the right words, ”...non-market system of exchange, like a reciprocity economy?”

The official sighed. “The manual explains it more at length, but the short version is: we hope that the inhabitants will accept the coins based on their value as pure metals, that even if the coins themselves are not accepted as legitimate currencies, or if currencies are not used in their system of exchange, they can be sold or traded as metals. I’ll admit that this thinking is quite tenuous, as we don't even know what value or position gold and silver have in the city you are to debark. If all attempts at engaging in their system of exchange fails, our fallback option is to increase the frequency of our resupply missions to once a month instead of once every three months.

It is our ministry’s utmost hope that such an outcome can be averted.”

After about an hour of answering all kinds of questions from the prospective members of the expedition, the meeting came to a close. One of the ministry officials said: "All of you who wish to proceed will be quarantined for one week as instructed, during which you are advised to read all the manuals relevant to your division. Once you have been tested negative for the coronavirus and a few other designated diseases at the end of the week, you will be allowed to board the red seal ship that has been prepared for you. Oh, and one thing you should all remember: Even though you have been assigned to different work and analysis groups and have been assigned different tasks, you should all cooperate and look out for each other. Because in the end, you aren't just linguists, or historians, or economic historians. You are also Japanese."

Tsubasa, who had sat quiet in a far-off corner, was one of the first to proceed to the quarantine.

* * *

Jeod Longshanks tightened his fists as he stared at the latest balance sheet for his shipping business, the lighting provided by the sun shining through the window.

The financial losses were growing. More and more ships were disappearing, and Jeod still had no inkling as to what was causing those disappearances that had started several months ago. When he and a few other unfortunate merchants had appealed to Lord Risthart in his citadel, the governor had impatiently told them that he would eventually look into it, before waving them off.

Unsurprisingly, Lord Risthart had done nothing of the like. Instead he spent his time as usual passing his nonsense decrees. The latest one, that all business owners were to have their headquarters in the lord's castle was just another headache for Jeod and his cursed business. Technically he was not supposed to conduct business from the comfort of his home, but he reasoned that this barely qualified as such.

And it was not just his business he was concerned about. If the disappearances continued, the Varden and Tronjheim would be running low on supplies, as Jeod and a few other merchants played an important part in supporting the resistance; he could only hope that the elves would further extend their generosity and make up for the difference.

Still he didn't understand what was behind the disappearances. No one had sighted any soldiers, or anything really. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought a Nïdhwal had been devouring everything up. And if this continued, Helen would surely become unbearable...

Jeod signed and leaned back in his chair, taking his eyes off the piece of parchment and onto the rest of his study. Compared to most of Teirm, just his study room would be considered a luxury, with its tapestries, its elaborate rugs and polished wooden floor, and the cozy fireplace at the side. All of this was, in his opinion, overshadowed by the stacked bookshelves. Not only were books highly valuable and not found in most households, as they were expensive to make, they were also a particular passion of his. Seeking to distract himself from his bleak situation, he considered which book he would read for today. He would need to finish it before sundown, when it would become too dark to read comfortably, even with the aid of a dozen candles.

Suddenly the door to his study opened, and the butler strode in. "Master Jeod," he said, "an unusual ship has been sighted just outside the docks of the city."


	8. The Foreigners

**The Foreigners**

_The 6th day of the 8th month, 7999 A.C._

Being naturally inquisitive about the world as he was, Jeod was familiar with a great number of ship designs; including every craft that had plied the waters around Teirm in the last twenty years. Yet, as he stood on the wharf, overlooking the flat horizon, alongside numerous other spectators and even a few guards, he understood why Rolf had called the ship "unusual".

The ship was of considerable size, as large as any seafaring vessels in the Empire, with its two full masts and another half-length one close to the stern; the only ships that were larger had to be the three-masted class directly under the king's core forces. Like all ships, it was slightly curved, but it was also uncommonly flat and smooth. Indeed, its design seemed to emphasize simplicity and uniformity before the more intricate and elaborate designs all too common in ships nowadays, yet the craft was strangely pleasant to look at. The ship was also painted orange, and curiously, red at the wooden outlines. Even the sails had a slight orange hue to them. _Is this one of the Empire's new ship designs?_ thought Jeod. _If so, the Varden should be alerted._

As the ship slowly drifted closer to the planking that was the docks, Jeod squinted his eyes and saw the figures of people aboard the ship, who were decidedly human. _Unusual garments,_ he thought. Like robes, they covered the wearer from shoulder to legs. But even from this distance of over five hundred feet, Jeod could see that the garments were no robes, as they were more constricted and less airy, and were embroidered with various patterns. In all his life, he had never seen attire like those. It did not fit the description of anything he had ever read in any books.

Finally, the large ship closed the last of the distance to the pier, and the crew aboard the ship cried and motioned with their arms for the bystanders below to back away as a gangplank was raised and eventually laid down on the wharf.

For a moment, nothing happened. Jeod and the others gathered continued to stare at the ship, even as the crew aboard seemed to be in no hurry to disembark as they were in quiet conversation with each other aboard the ship.

"Never seen those dresses they be wearing," Jeod heard someone slur. Others also made similarly bemused remarks.

More guards arrived at the pier, and Jeod began to wonder whether the city authority had been caught just as flat-footed as he was, as a few of the guards were yelling at each other with confusion in their tones.

Then, at last, the people aboard the ship seemed to stop their talking. Organizing themselves in a line, the people aboard slowly stepped down from the ship onto the pier, and the guards below shouted for the masses to give way to a berth. The people aboard moved carefully and deliberately, as if any missteps would cause undue alarm, and Jeod knew then that these people did not work under Galbatorix.

Jeod was immediately struck by a few remarkable observations. These people were clean; far cleaner than any sailor out at sea had a right to be, as the latter tended to be characterized by their sweat and grime. Their skins were surprisingly smooth for seafarers. Their appearances were neat and well-kept, of a kind usually bestowed on nobles, wealthy merchants, and others similarly well-off. All of them seemed to be healthy - certainly none of the ones disembarking so far had scurvy - and they all seemed to be reasonably well-nourished. In fact, despite having been at sea, they seemed to be tidier and healthier than the majority of commoners in Teirm!

The men - and a few women, Jeod noted - all had dark and, unsurprisingly, well-kept hair, and their eyes were similarly dark around the pupils. Compared to the populace of Teirm, they were of average height. A few of them had slightly curved scabbards hanging at their hips; Jeod noted with fascination that their swords seemed to lack guards except for a small ring, yet were fitted with long handles.

One after another, the strangers stepped onto the pier, looking around them with what Jeod thought was marvel in their eyes, as if they were just as astounded by the sights around them as Jeod and quite a few surrounding bystanders were of them. Jeod counted at least seventy among the strangers, and he suspected a great number of them had chosen to remain on the ship. None of the ones he saw seemed to be inebriated, which surprised Jeod.

A few of the guards approached the strangers, and he saw them exchange a few words. Then, one of the guards frowned and shook his head. The short exchange seemed to have rendered the guards even more bewildered than before, and they seemed too floored to even continue their exchange with the strangers.

Curiosity overtook Jeod, the ever inquisitive scholar, and before he could stop himself he made its way to where the guards and the strangers were standing.

One of the bewildered guards, upon seeing Jeod, exclaimed: "We can't understand what they are saying!"

_What?!_

Jeod turned to the one stranger closest to him, and asked: "Excuse me, good sir, but from where did you set sail? For it seems that the port authority of this city did not expect your arrival at this time." Up close, he noted that the fabrics of their garments seemed to be smooth and of very high quality.

The stranger looked at him apologetically and tilted his head, before speaking.

And Jeod became as floored as the guards. For out of his mouth came words that Jeod had never before heard. It sounded nothing like the words of the common language of all humans, not even a distant dialect or accent. In fact, it did not sound like any language he had ever heard; not the ancient language, the language of the dwarves, or even that of the Urgals - however restricted Jeod’s knowledge was of that foul tongue. The few things Jeod could make out of the language - _language!_ \- as he listened to a few strangers conversing with each other were that the vowels seemed short, and the use of consonant clusters (an elven concept he had come across during his studies of the ancient language) seemed very limited. The foreign words that had left the strangers’s mouths also sounded crisp and clear, more so than the common language. Other than that, the language almost sounded like singing to his ears.

Jeod had to stop himself from staggering from the shaking of his legs. His heart had started pounding heartily, and he started taking in deeper breaths at the shock and astonishment he was feeling, not taking it as well as he used to in his old age. The idea that there were human languages other than the common language was almost too much to take in, even if it made logical sense.

These people had to have come from outside the Empire, outside Surda, outside the Hadarac Desert and its wandering tribes, and even beyond the Beor Mountains and the humans who lived there. Jeod had read theories about inhabited lands to the south of the Beors, but any information on civilizations beyond the western parts of Alagaësia were very scarce. Were these people on an expedition from some country beyond the known lands? Jeod's mind was in upheaval at the possible implications.

Jeod realized that he had remained stupified for more than twenty seconds since the response he had gotten from the stranger. He quickly made gestures in response, unsure himself what he was trying to convey, but the stranger did not notice as he no longer had his attention on Jeod.

"We already sent words to Lord Risthart," Jeod heard one of the guards mutter to another bystander. Ah, so they were waiting for his lordship to arrive, presumably to receive these guests from far away lands. Or would Risthart do something more improper, even nefarious? With how unpredictably the governor had been acting as of late, Jeod could not be sure.

The strangers seemed to understand that the important people had not yet arrived, as they tarried on the pier, a few conversing quietly with each other.

About half an hour later, three horse-drawn carriages were seen in the distance. They stopped just before the plankings, and from the one carriage embroidered in gemstones and gold platings, the governor of Teirm stepped out.

Finally, Lord Risthart had arrived, bringing with himself an entourage of guards and important nobles, most of them dressed in ostentatious costumes and billowing cloaks. Yet Jeod was not sure even their fabrics were of a similar quality to those worn by the strangers. A few musicians played the familiar fanfare on their trumpets, signaling the arrival of his lordship. The strangers- no, _foreigners_ , stared at the arriving entourage with fascination, excitement, and a few seemed to be in awe.

"All hail Lord Risthart, the great and honorable master of Teirm!" a town crier shouted. Risthart, who was dressed even more elaborately than the surrounding nobles, stepped forward, along with two guards covered in full plate armor and armed with poleaxes. One of the foreigners, who Jeod guessed was the leader of their group, stepped forward to meet Lord Risthart while holding a perfectly smooth wooden box in his hands. They stopped about ten feet from each other, and then the foreigner bowed, one hand pressing the box to his waist, the other also at his sides, even as his head and torso were lowered.

Risthart scowled with slight disapproval. In a haughty voice, he asked: "Speak you for the voyagers that have arrived unannounced in my city?"

The leader of the foreigners from distant lands tilted his head, then replied in that foreign language of his, and Risthart's scowl deepened. The leader then lifted the wooden top of the beige-colored wooden box and kneeled, his arms stretched forward to present the opened box to the governor. The box, Jeod noted, was smoother and more uniform in color than any wooden box he had ever seen - at least those made by humans.

Risthart moved closer, along with his guards, and took the box from the foreigner's outstretched hands. He closely examined what was inside, then picked it up with one hand.

It was a figurine, made of some glassy material whose quality astounded Jeod. The sculpture was white and impossibly smooth, and Jeod was not sure what it was meant to depict, although the animal outline it was shaped after vaguely reminded him of a Fanghur. Even Risthart looked dumbfounded for a moment as he stared at it and weighed it in his hand, his fingers rubbing at the lean surface. His disposition immediately changed, and he said in a tone that was no longer haughty: "As governor of Teirm, I welcome you to my city. You and your men are free to stay here as long as you would like." He frowned for a moment, then gestured at the group and then swept an arm at the city that was behind them.

The eyes of numerous foreigners lit up as they nodded. Risthart then pointed to the leader of the group, then to himself, and then the castle. "I would like to invite you, and a few of your more distinguished men, to my castle."

The leader seemed to understand, and he walked slowly to stand beside Risthart. A few others from the group hesitantly joined him, bowing at the entourage, and then Risthart started walking while beckoning for them to follow him, and he and his entourage escorted them away from the pier, toward the carriages that would lead them to the citadel.

And then it was just the bystanders of Teirm, a few guards, and the remaining foreigners from the ship. Jeod absently saw a few of the foreigners going back to the ship, probably to inform the rest of them of what had transpired. He himself was still in a daze with everything that had happened.

He saw that a few of the foreigners started making their way off the pier and into the actual city, while others seemed to still be deliberating. A few were even trying to communicate with the bystanders, gesticulating with their hands while making inquiring or affirmative tones.

Jeod knew what he had to do. He had to get acquainted with a few of the foreigners, invite them to his mansion, then try to find out as much about them as possible. His inner scholar demanded it. He could even make history by being one of the first to publish a book on this extraordinary event and on the foreigners and their lands. And if there was even a slight chance this could help the Varden in their effort...

His mind set on the matter, he walked over to one of the foreigners, one young man who looked to be in his earlier twenties and as immaculate as the rest of them, and bowed with his hands to his sides, as he had seen a few of the foreigners do. The man looked surprised, even perplexed, and seemed unsure what to do. Jeod noticed, as he approached, that the foreigner lacked the slight sweaty, greasy, and pungent odor that most sailors, or even commoners, carried.

Jeod considered what to say. In all the books he had ever read, few of them ever dealt with the issue of language barriers. Even the _Domia abr Wyrda_ had skimmed through such details. It seemed in every encounter between humans and other races there was always someone in the latter group who spoke the common language.

In the end, Jeod hoped to be able to convey his meaning by putting emphasis on individual words. He pointed to himself and pronounced: "Jeod. J-od." He repeated that a few times before pointing to the young man with a questioning expression (or so he hoped).

The man hesitated, then murmured what Jeod presumed was his name, only the differences between their languages and naming conventions made it hard for Jeod to grasp the unfamiliar name.

"Sew-bahsah?" The young man shook his head, and Jeod was glad at least those universal gestures did not seem to change across the lands.

The young man slowly pronounced his name a few more times, seeming uncomfortable doing that, until Jeod could pronounce it passably. "Tsubasa," Jeod finally got down, and the man Tsubasa nodded.

"Well, Tsubasa," Jeod said. "How about I show you around the city." He pointed to himself and to Tsubasa, then gestured toward Teirm. "Then I can show you one of my favorite taverns, where we can get something to eat." He then mimicked an eating man while pointing toward the city. Tsubasa nodded, seeming to understand.

Jeod softly nudged Tsubasa's arm and made a gesture to start walking, but was interrupted by a young woman who seemed to be in her mid-twenties. She bowed with her hands clasped in front of her, then pointed to herself and pronounced clearly: "Marie."

"Ah, pleased to meet you, Marie. My name is Jeod. J-od."

Marie pronounced his name, her pronunciation slightly off, but Jeod did not mind. She then said a few words to Tsubasa, who curtly answered back, his gaze on the city.

"Well then," said Jeod. He explained (or gestured) his planned itinerary once again, this time to Marie, who responded with what seemed like agreeable words, based on the tone and the nodding.

And so they set off, away from the wharf and toward the rest of the city.


	9. Culture Shocks

**Culture Shocks**

_Reiwa 2 August 1_

Minato sipped on his green tea as he looked out the window from his office in the Kantei. The sounds of cars driving past could be heard from outside, more frequently than in the past few months. In less than a year, Japan would be completely self-sufficient in oil and natural gas, or so he had been told by numerous experts and business executives, and so fuel restrictions were being gradually loosened. He even sighted an airliner in the distant cloudy skies, as some airports were resuming air traffic. It was not a Boeing, but one of Mitsubishi's SpaceJet models, probably enjoying a trial flight. The company was scrambling to develop alternatives to the Boeing airliners, with strong government support.

Minato sat down, and frowned as he took another look at the provisional estimates on fiscal allocation ending July, and the various items that were receiving funding. Since the transfer, the government had unprecedentedly ramped up public spending, with much of the funding directly provided interest-free by the Bank of Japan to bypass the liquidity constraints of the bond market, effectively giving the government access to unlimited money. This massive fiscal expansion was meant to mitigate the enormous consequences wrought by the transfer, and to a lesser extent by the COVID-19, by financing the overseas economic projects and its massive supply chains, to adjusting the domestic economy to the loss of global value chains by supporting indigenization, and by steering off the economic depression and mass unemployment in general by boosting aggregate demand. As such, and because he had been preoccupied with the broader details of the overseas economic projects, the scale of the budget and the number of spending items had reached such a degree that Minato himself had lost track of it.

Which was why he was grappling with some of the spending items. A hundred trillion yen just on "discretionary spending"? Just what was included in that spending item? The description was obscure, but implied that a lot of it was to supplement the functionings of JAXA. Something about "asteroid impact avoidance". Minato had a bad feeling about this. He would have to convene a meeting at some point, involving the full Cabinet and other people involved in government budgetary issues. Hopefully someone there would have the answers.

* * *

_Reiwa 2 August 3_

At the headquarters of the Japan Meteorological Agency, in the operation room, many employees were staring at the latest satellite footages, completely gobsmacked. A whirlpool was seen on a large digital screen, surrounded by the rest of the ocean and the outlines of a large island. That in itself might have not been that remarkable, were it not for its size…

"N-no, no! There has to be a mistake! Impossible!" several people burst out.

The Director-General hmmed. "That has to be at least five kilometers across, if not ten. Far wider than the actual depths of the waters, I think. And not an eddy, but an actual whirlpool..."

One of their prominent scientists shook his head in disbelief. "The satellite must have been infected by space dust or something! What it shows goes against everything we know about fluid dynamics..."

"Perhaps this is better approached on a quantum level, rather than on a classical one?" another scientist suggested.

"It's still impossible. There is no way a whirlpool can be that big! Do you realize how fucking ridiculous that is?! Ten kilometers across, that's the size of… of Paris! It would swallow any ship in sight, even the largest oil tanker! Even Seawise Giant!" He continued raving.

"It's like magic," someone muttered. "First the transfer, then the sea monster and the mind control thing, now this…"

The Director-General signed. "It can't be helped. It is what it is, unless it can conclusively be proven that the image is the result of some technical error or bug. Now we need to convince the journalists at the press conference that we are in fact no lunatics…"

* * *

_The 6th day of the 8th month, 7999 A.C._

Jeod could not help stealing furtive glances at the two foreigners as the three of them slowly walked off the wharf and onto land. Everything about them was so… different.

As they walked through the harbor, he noted that their footwear seemed to be some kind of sandals. Looking at their faces, he could see that, although they did not differ meaningfully in skin tone from the majority of humans in the Empire, their facial features were still noticeably different. It would not be too hard to pick them out from the rest of the city dwellers of Teirm, even had they not worn their distinctive clothing.

He saw the wonder and amazement that filled their expressions. The woman, Marie, in particular made no attempt to hide her excitement as they approached the gate that led into the rest of Teirm. She seemed especially surprised by the size of the wall. Tsubasa's demeanor was more muted, but Jeod saw him looking at the guards who stood at the entrance, pikes in their hands, with a curious glance, almost as if they were something novel.

 _Perhaps he has never set foot in a city before?_ Jeod reasoned. _After all, most people haven't, and guards patrolling walled entrances must be quite a striking sight to the common villager and farmer. Judging by the reactions from Marie, she is in a similar position. Although that makes me curious how they got on the ship…_

He heard them talking quietly to each other in their language, or mostly Marie to Tsubasa, and was struck by how quickly the words rolled off their tongues. Their language seemed to be spoken more quickly than the common language. Then he saw Marie turn toward him, and she addressed him in an inquiring tone: "Eto…" She pointed to herself and stated: "Marie." Then she pointed to him and said: "Jeod." Then she walked the short distance to the white wall and pointed to it, with a questioning glance at Jeod.

"Ahh… wall," Jeod finally filled in. "Wall," he repeated slowly. Marie tried to pronounce the word, though it came out somewhat accented. In fairness though, he had heard some farmers enunciate things almost as poorly, even though they had spoken the common language all their lives.

Finally they had passed the portcullis and were on the cobblestone street, surrounded by the rather grim and dilapidated mostly wooden buildings that characterized the outer parts of Teirm. He saw them both wrinkle their noses, especially Marie who also coughed once or twice. _I suppose that's not an uncommon reaction from villagers setting foot in a city for the first time, not used to the smells,_ Jeod thought. Jeod himself was very much used to it, although he did think it could get a little unpleasant at times, when too much excrement and rotting animal entrails piled up in one spot. But if that was the price of living in a city, he would gladly accept it. Besides, Teirm was one of the better cities in the Empire in terms of odor, even if it had nothing on the elven cities of Du Weldenvarden. But the elves were, well, elves.

"Welcome to Teirm," he told them, even though he knew they would not understand. He was relieved to see that the smells of the city did not seem to detract their overall curiosity and excitement; their hungry gazes shifted between all the sights before them, trying to take everything in. Jeod was slightly jealous of them; to be able to experience the awe of seeing a city for the first time. But mostly he was glad and slightly excited on their behalf. Their excitement - mainly Marie's - only strengthened his resolve to play a good host and give them a good experience of what the city had to offer.

The buildings got taller, more ornate and well-maintained as they walked deeper into the city. Marie would occasionally inquire about the words for things in the common language by pointing, and Jeod swore her pronunciation improved as the inquiries went on. He also noticed that particularly Marie walked with a lack of the cautiousness and vigilance usually seen in most city-dwellers, the latter's mindset fueled by the crime-ridden reality and other risks and dangers of living in a city. Jeod wished he could tell them to be more alert and less trusting of everyone surrounding them, but he had no way of communicating his apprehensions. It did not help that they stuck out like Kulls among dwarven younglings, with their garments. At least Tsubasa seemed to pick up some wariness in his expression as some strangers started looking at them with suspicion.

As he took another quiet appraisal at the foreigners, he also thought that they, along with the other foreigners he had seen on that pier, possessed a certain refined mannerism and self-restraint not even found among all nobles.

He suddenly heard the jingling sound of coins as Marie fished for something in her leather bag, only to give the silvery coinage to the nearest miserable street vagabond. Jeod was momentarily taken aback, not just by the odd act, but also the fact that they had brought with them currency from their home country, even though it should not have been a surprise. He wanted to take a closer look at their coins, but could not think of a way to communicate his request without appearing to be in the act of panhandling.

Tsubasa, by his expression, seemed to be skeptical of her actions, and muttered something to that effect. Or so Jeod guessed.

He glanced up at the mostly clear sky. Judging by the current position of the sun, it was one hour or two past midday. Still a good time for a midday meal.

They finally stopped before his favorite tavern, the Glazing Poultry. The pleasant aroma of cooked meat, fish, and cinnamon filled his nose, and he saw that Marie was no longer wrinkling her nose. "This is a _tavern_ ," he said, emphasizing the last word as he pointed to the door and surrounding building of stone and wood. "Here we will _eat_." He mimicked an eating man. He then beckoned for them to follow him inside.

The boisterous chatter quietened as they walked deeper into the tavern. The two foreigners received some stares, curious as well as wary ones. Jeod saw Tsubasa stiffen for a moment, until Marie took his arm, murmured something, and guided him to follow Jeod.

They took their seats at a wooden table as the chatter around them returned to what it had been. Jeod cast furtive glances at the two, trying to discern their impressions of this place. The Glazing Poultry was one of the finest taverns in all of Teirm; clean, kept in good conditions, just enough spacious, and cozily decorated. Most importantly, the food was always delicious, and even the occasional noble would stop by to enjoy a well-seasoned white poultry.

From what he saw, they seemed utterly fascinated by the place, like it was a novel experience, and Jeod found himself wondering. _I suppose taverns such as this do not exist in a great number of villages, especially destitute ones._

As he was the only one who could speak the common language, he took the orders for all of them to the serving wench, who stared curiously at the two foreigners. He was about to pay, but Marie beat him to it and handed a few coins to the wench. Probably a few too many; while the value of coins were chiefly determined by their weight and the metal they were made of, even the daftest of farmers could see that those silvery coins were worth no less than the crowns issued by the Empire. Unless they were made of lead.

Jeod wanted to protest, as customs demanded that the host be the one to shoulder the costs, but how was he going to make himself understood? Meanwhile, the serving wench had finally stopped gaping and left their table.

It struck him that with how carelessly this young woman parted with her coins, she had to be fairly well-endowed. If so, she either had to be of noble birth, or at least born into a wealthy family, or she had managed to marry a wealthy husband. Or both, like Helen once was. He cast a glance at Tsubasa. Were they married? Probably not, as they did not have rings, unless the customs in their lands were different.

He really wished he could inquire more about their lands, and was starting to feel frustrated by the language barrier.

A couple people approached, no doubt curious about the foreigners, but when Jeod informed them - and loud enough for other surrounding tables to hear - that the two foreigners did not speak the common language, they were not bothered again.

As they waited for their food and drinks, Marie tried to strike up a conversation with him, even though she barely knew a word of their language, instead communicating through gestures, pointing, and various sounds. He tried to respond the best he could, but was often not sure what the topic was about. She pointed to various things, asking for the words in the common language, and even intentionally mispronounced things to learn from Jeod the word "no". She even mimicked leaving their table and then returned, waving and making a greeting sound as she looked expectantly at Jeod, until he finally realized what she wanted and responded back with a common greeting phrase, which she copied.

 _She's really trying to learn our language,_ Jeod thought.

He was just teaching her to count to ten - which she had requested by pointing to and folding her fingers - when the food and beer arrived.

"Thank you," Marie said to the wench, and Jeod was stunned.

The main course was a stuffed suckling pig served on a copper platter, accompanied by potatoes, carrots, turnips, sweet apples, and various herbs and other seasonings. "Suge," Marie said to Tsubasa excitedly, though the latter only made a noncommittal sound. Then she looked at Jeod while pointing to some of the ingredients. "This is?"

A little dumbfounded, Jeod did his best to answer. As they dug in, Jeod was surprised by their good table manners. It was hardly what he would expect of peasants and villagers, or even many a commoner in Teirm. Then again, with her wealth, Marie could not be a mere farmer. And neither could Tsubasa, or Marie would refuse to be anywhere near him, much less deign to address him. It would be beneath the stature of someone of her wealth. Jeod was different in that regard as he tolerated the lower folks despite his once formidable wealth.

On the other hand, they seemed to struggle somewhat with actually picking up the food. For some reason, they refused to use their hands for eating, instead relying solely on their wooden spoons, producing a somewhat comical sight. In the end, they gave up and started using their fingers.

He saw Tsubasa sniff suspiciously at the beer, before giving it a small taste. To Jeod's dismay, he did not seem to like it very much. _This is considered good beer in Teirm! The spirits of their homeland must be quite different from here…_

As they finished eating their meal, he saw Marie dig for something in her bag. It was a piece of parchment, on which was a drawing of the sun and land beneath, made with simple thin strokes. Marie pointed to the sun, and Jeod, who was by now used to her antics, quickly answered with the word in the common language.

It turned out Marie had quite a few pieces of parchment, and they spent several minutes going through them. Then the wench came to collect their tableware, and out of courtesy Jeod lifted the pieces of parchment lying on the table... _wait a bit._

 _This is not parchment._ The material was far too smooth, and, now that he thought about it, its color was far too light and too uniform. The thing he was holding was almost white in color, as opposed to the unevenly distributed yellow-brown he was used to.

 _This is elven,_ Jeod realized. _What did they call it… paper? Made directly from wood, I reckon._

Jeod's heart started to pound with excitement. This meant that their country had extensive contacts with the elves, a race who spoke the ancient language! For Jeod knew that the elves of Alagaësia had spoken the ancient language before they had even arrived on the continent, so it was only logical to assume that the elves beyond Alagaësia also spoke the language of magic.

Even if he had not known this, he should have at least tried communicating with them in the language of truth. Jeod wanted to curse himself. _Why hadn't I thought of this before?_

After making sure no one but them was within earshot, he opened his mouth, trembling slightly from the anticipation, and asked in the ancient language: "Do you understand me?"

Tsubasa stared at him questioningly, while Marie politely asked in the common language: "What?"

Jeod's heart sank. While he could see both of them appeared surprised, he knew it was only from the reverberating power behind the ancient language, and not the meaning of his words. He could see it in their eyes. They had not understood what he said.

Did that mean that the elves their country was in contact with did not speak the ancient language? Or were they in fact not in contact with any elves? But how then did they get those pieces of paper, as only the elves could make something so intricate? Maybe the two foreigners just did not know the ancient language, contacts with the elves regardless. More and more questions filled his mind even as he felt the disappointment from his failure at communicating.

"I'm sorry," Jeod said in an apologetic tone. "I thought you could speak the ancient language." He saw Marie nod, then quickly entering a discussion with Tsubasa, which Jeod could hear was of a more serious nature than before. Her expression had also shifted from being lighthearted to a more sober one ever since Jeod had uttered the words of power.

Even though Jeod could not understand a word of what they were saying, he could guess from the context. Not only did they not speak the ancient language, they had reacted with surprise to its power, suggesting their familiarity with the language was very limited, perhaps even nonexistent. He would bet his remaining crowns that they were trying to figure out the mysterious feeling they had felt when he had spoken those words. He frowned. _They must be unfamiliar with magic, like most commonfolk._ He was starting to regret using the ancient language.

But then they stopped their conversation with what sounded like an agreement, and Marie resumed her cheerful demeanor as if nothing had happened. Tsubasa, however, seemed more thoughtful than before, which was saying something.

Hoping to get them to quickly forget what had just transpired, he suggested they take their leave from the tavern, communicating through a mixture of words and gestures.

"Yes," Marie said, while Tsubasa nodded. The pace with which the young woman was picking up the common language continued to astound Jeod.

Once they were out on the cobblestone street, Jeod knew it was time to convince them on what he had planned next. "Jeod pointed around to the many buildings surrounding them while enunciating the word "house." Marie nodded, probably already familiar with the word from her earlier questioning with the parch- the papers.

Jeod pointed to himself. "My house," he said. "We will go there, all right?" He gestured for them to follow him.

Marie looked at Tsubasa for a moment. When he seemed to be assenting, she said to Jeod: "Yes Jeod! We you house."

As they walked to his abode, and Jeod turned to look behind his shoulder as he sometimes did, his gaze locked on a dark corner, where he thought he saw a ball of black fur with a pair of red eyes staring at the back Tsubasa, before his line of sight to the spot was blocked by the walls of a building as they continued walking.

* * *

The butler Rolf greeted them as they arrived at the doorsteps, and seemed somewhat befuddled as the two foreigners both bowed to him in response. Marie even managed to utter an accented "greetings".

They followed Jeod inside his mansion and took it all in with curious glances. He wondered if they had ever been inside a house this big.

Jeod saw them stopping right at the entrance, eyeing him questioningly, and then Marie pointed to her footwear.

"Shoes," Jeod said quickly. "Or sandals. _Sandals."_

But Marie shook her head. She then slowly demonstrated taking off her footwear…

"Wait!" Jeod exclaimed. "No wait, there is no need to do that," he added. Inwardly, he was once again surprised for the umpteenth time this day. _Do they not wear shoes inside their homes where they come from?_ Jeod found the notion of not wearing shoes indoors very hard to grasp. Though now that he thought about it, he did remember reading in some obscure work that some elves preferred to be barefoot, a tidbit he had dismissed at the time. But given how uncomfortable it would be to walk the floors of most human homes without shoes, Jeod could not fathom what those two were thinking.

He did not see Helen around, and guessed the woman was fuming in her room, or the like.

Jeod motioned for them to follow him as he showed them around his mansion. They both looked appreciatively at his collection of books when he showed them his study, which he took as a good sign. Marie cast him a questioning glance as she approached the bookcase with an outstretched hand, and when he nodded, she picked up one of the books and carefully flipped through the pages. The way she familiarly handled the book suggested to Jeod that she had done it before. _That means she can read, which is more than can be said for most._ In an average group of ten people, only one would know their letters.

Then she sighed however and pointed at the writing while shaking her head at Jeod. _I suppose the language barrier manifests itself even in writing._

They did not linger in the study for long, and soon they left for the scores of doorways.

This was the part Jeod was unsure about. He wanted them to stay in his mansion for a while, so he could learn more about them and their distant lands, for the good of the Varden and Arcaena, as well as to sate his own unending curiosity. Given how quickly Marie was picking up the common language, in perhaps just a few months she would be able to communicate with him passably, if they were to stay. There was also the question of sleeping arrangements. It was common for peasants to share beds, be it with family members, or between strangers as was often the case with travelers in inns.

But among the nobility and the wealthy, there had developed a custom for individuals to sleep in separate beds or even separate rooms. After all, having your own bed was a sign of great affluence, and with it also came the expectation for the wealthy host to offer the same to his guests, if his guests were not peasants, however unlikely the latter was. Jeod, unusual as he was, would offer the same consideration to peasants as he would to the nobility and the gentry. Besides, his guests may not be peasants at all.

With slight hesitation, he opened two doors next to each other, revealing a room furnished with two beds and nightstands, a window and curtains, and a few other amenities.

He saw the realization in their eyes, and then they started chattering in their quick language. Finally, Marie turned to him and said a heartfelt "thank you" before fishing for coins in her bag. Curious as Jeod was about the coins, he eagerly received them before thinking through his actions. Then he instantly regretted it as he realized he had just received payment. Feeling his honor as a good host smarting, he immediately tried handing the coins back, only to be rebuffed by Marie.

 _I guess it can't be helped,_ Jeod thought. He looked closely at the near-dozen coins he had received, feeling the surface of the metal with his fingers. Then he froze in shock.

 _This is silver! Actual silver!_ _They certainly aren't mere commoners..._

The carvings on the coins were curiously sparse, and at first glance they looked plain, if a bit unusually smooth. But as he examined them closer, he was struck by how detailed, how precise the scarce sculpting was. Even the smallest etchings - few as they were - were well-defined. He compared the coins and found the carvings on each of them to be exactly identical. Whoever the smith was that had hammered these coins, his name would surely be immortalized for the coins alone! The idea that there was a human whose metalwork perhaps rivaled that of dwarves and elves… it filled him with unexpected pride.

After a while, he was approached by Marie, who held a piece of paper showing a man… defecating on some stool? Jeod struggled to find the words to describe the act. Once he had, Marie pointed again at the picture and then at herself and Tsubasa.

 _Ah._ He supposed they did not feel inclined to take their needs to the outside street or some corner of the house. Luckily he did have a few latrines and chamber pots in his mansion, which he promptly guided them toward.

After he had opened the door to where the latrines were present, he saw Marie wrinkle her nose in disgust. Tsubasa muttered something, then went inside and closed the door.

Jeod glanced at Marie who stood outside the door, probably waiting for her turn to use the latrines. Jeod was not sure if he should leave them to it and go downstairs or to his study, but he did not have to think long about that as he heard a call from inside, and a response from Marie.

The two exchanged a few words from each side of the door, then Marie met Jeod's curious expression with a hesitating one as she picked up a piece of paper from one of the pockets of her garment. Jeod, expecting her to show him the contents on the paper for him to enunciate, was surprised when she instead put it close to where her bottom was under the garments, then made a show of scrubbing. She seemed rather embarrassed doing so.

Jeod stared dumbfounded at the bizarre display. What was she doing? "I'm sorry," he said carefully. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you are asking of me."

Marie shot him an exasperated look - an expression he was not used to seeing on her face - then spoke to Tsubasa in a reluctant, apologetic tone.

A long, tense moment passed. Then the door opened, and out came Tsubasa. Marie patted his shoulder and murmured something as he passed by, a look of defeat on his face.

_Just what is going on?_

* * *

Later Marie came to him as he sat in his study trying to find out as much as possible from his books and scrolls about encounters with other civilizations beyond Alagaësia and solutions to language barriers, and she pointed to a piece of paper. Jeod was relieved to see that they, or at least she, had recovered from her earlier dismay. He was still unsure what had transpired to have caused such reactions in them, but had tactfully left them be so they could sort it out.

The drawing showed a picture of a man… bathing?

"Bathe," Jeod said. "Bathing."

Marie then pointed to the drawing and to herself, and Jeod realized what she was asking for. And it left him puzzled. _They don't stink,_ he thought. _Nor are they covered in dirt and grime._ And yet she was asking for a bath.

 _So she doesn't think bathing is dangerous?_ thought Jeod. After all, it was believed by many that bathing was harmful to one's health as it opened the pores of the skin to the air, allowing foul miasmas to seep through and causing many a disease. Especially the dreaded plague. From what little he knew, this thinking was disputed by the elves, and even the dwarves did not seem to have the same reservations toward bathing as humans did.

"House," Marie said. "Bathe. House bathe." She gestured to the many buildings visible outside the window.

"You want to visit a bathhouse?" Jeod asked while also gesturing to the outside. Marie nodded.

Jeod rose from his seat. "All right," said Jeod. "I will show you Teirm's only public bathhouse."

"Tsubasa," Marie said, while pointing to approximately where his room was. Then she left the study, presumably to ask Tsubasa to accompany them.

Some half an hour later and late in the afternoon, they stood before a fairly large and opulent building made purely of stone. Jeod had explained by drawing on a piece of parchment that inside would be two enclosed spaces, one for men and one for women, each with a pool of water, and he truly hoped Marie had understood him.

As he and Tsubasa entered the male section of the bathhouse and looked out over the pool of water, which was under an open roof and surrounded by stone columns, he thought that a warm bath might not be so bad after all, even if it was bad for his health.


	10. Tea for Four

**Tea for Four**

_Reiwa 2 August 6_

Sitting around the round (actually square) table, Minato and dozens of other ministers and high-ranking officials listened to one of the almost a hundred aides, the latter of whom sat along the wooden wall panelings of the conference room.

"... apologize, but the Japan Medical Association regrettably reports that the procurement of ventilators has proceeded… slower than expected. Projections for the full Q3 figures might have to be downwardly adjusted to 3,000, from the originally planned 5,000 figure."

Several sighs and quiet grumbles were heard as these news were processed.

The Minister of Economy, Trade and Industry addressed the Minister of Health, Labour, and Welfare: "It was my understanding, Imagawa-san, that the health ministry had assured us that the screening process had been streamlined to meet the target figure. It seems I was mistaken."

If Imagawa was inwardly bristling, he did not show it. "There are problems on the supply side that have nothing to do with regulatory hurdles or red tape, at least on our part, Noguchi-san," he answered calmly. "It is simply a matter of us losing—and I'm sure you've all heard it a hundred times before—all foreign suppliers of ventilators, and ECMO machines, and reagents, and protective equipment, and all other things we need. And our domestic producers were dependent on foreign suppliers for components and other parts. So the whole supply system was disrupted. As Minister of Economy, I'm sure you are well aware of this, Noguchi-san."

"At this rate… we can expect another five thousand deaths with the second wave that's now appearing," another official muttered. "We are not at all prepared." And then other officials started participating in the gloomy discussion, some speaking past each other and out of turn:

"Our stock is more than adequate, the doomsday forecasts of "the second wave" are likely way overblown anyway!"

"Really? We thought for so long that we had finally "flattened the curve", but now the number of new cases are once again rising… by 1.7 percent just yesterday! That's one thousand five hundred! R0 exceeding one for a month. Will this ever stop? Is the rest of the G7 on... _Earth_ handling it any better?"

"Of course they are!" said a journalist whom Minato recognized as a main critic against their COVID-19 response. "Unlike Japan, America and Europe and China and others were enforcing actual lockdowns and restricting the movement of their people, as I've said many times. They were able to place restrictions on people from leaving their homes and meeting others. Actual social distancing. But apparently, as we're repeatedly being told, our constitution prevents us from doing that because of civil rights concerns and we are relying on voluntary compliance!"

"—can't be worse than Italy—"

"—retrospective contact tracing, the three C's, a lot more than you are claiming—"

"—approaches in the West and China are too draconian and authoritarian—"

"—they probably finished phase II trials by now—"

"... why is a journalist interrupting in-meeting?"

"It can't be helped," said an unnamed official. "We must adhere to the constitution or lose sense of who we are. Especially with the recent regrettable transgressions on our freedoms and rights committed by this cabinet because of the state of emergency."

Imagawa then added to the discussion: "The real worry at the present is not COVID-19—which has little impact on all-cause mortality right now—, but the shortage of pharmaceuticals in general. Our pharmaceutical companies continue to do what they can to ramp up production, but since we used to import most of what we consumed… Along with the fact that hospitals are at capacity… And the food shortages certainly don't help.

Minato could see from Imagawa's apprehensive trademark expression that he was holding back on the bad news. "What's the health ministry's assessment?" Minato asked.

"The actual report is embargoed until next Monday, but the headline findings are that Japan's life expectancy could fall by up to three years, under the high excess mortality scenario—mostly due to the transfer than due to the COVID-19. I apologize for the news, Takahashi-shushou."

A quiet filled the conference room.

"If there is nothing more to say on this, shall we move on to other topics?" asked Minato. He glanced at the close to a hundred aides sitting by walls around them, most of them busy scribbling on their notes and laptops—which they also used to monitor the constant flow of information and manage communications with other cabinet and ministry staff and various authorities. Outside this room, thousands of cabinet staffers were present in the building, overseeing the various functionings of the Kantei.

Assents were heard and seen from the officials around the table, and a little while later the Minister of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries spoke up: "The Governor of Hokkaido confirms that fish catches in the Hokkaido Prefecture remain at near record levels, consistent with the reports we have from other prefectures. At this rate, we are catching double of what we did last year, or about ten million tons annualized. Perhaps it is too early to conclude, but it seems that the availability of fish surrounding our country really has improved."

"Good thing this world is bountiful in fish, at least," someone remarked. "Just be sure our fishing ships don't fall into any troublesome whirlpools. By the way, are there any other whirlpools that are millions of times more massive than those on Earth, like the recently discovered one by the eastern continent?"

A representative from JAXA answered: "Our satellites haven't picked up any other mega whirlpools, at least close to Japan."

"I see."

Then an official from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs said: "I'm sure many of you are already aware of this, but our first diplomatic and research expedition to the eastern lands has just landed without further complications, and has just made first contact with the locals."

"Yes, yes," Noguchi said dismissively. "More pertinently, I would like to discuss resuming volume production of integrated circuits to seventy percent of pre-transfer levels earlier than planned, as well as for certain consumer goods. The facts are that..." And the conversation turned to industry-related matters, on which Minato did not feel the need to add much. Rather, he was waiting for all the various topics on the agenda to be exhausted, before he would address the question that had been gnawing at him for a few days.

It was not just that he was personally curious where the funds earmarked for "discretionary spending" actually went. The Asahi Shimbun had started asking similar questions, and he had assured their reporters in a press conference two days ago that he would provide them with answers, just after this conference meeting in fact. He just hoped that the discretionary spending did not turn out to be a financial black hole…

Finally, after a thorough briefing and discussion on the merits of further biofuel subsidies to displace oil consumption, and as it seemed no one was sure what was next on the agenda, Minato initiated what he hoped was the final topic of the day: "The Asahi has been insisting on an answer to where the money spent on "discretionary spending" actually goes. I must confess that I myself am quite in the dark, as the responsibility for that spending item has been relegated to other officials. At any rate, could those knowledgeable on this matter give us a short briefing? We only have a few minutes left, unless we want to go overtime."

The room was silent for a few seconds, then the Minister of State for the Tokyo Olympic and Paralympic Games chimed in somewhat reluctantly: "I guess I might have been responsible for where the money went…" He fell silent.

"... I see…" said Noguchi. "Well, I suppose I should admit I'm quite interested myself, since apparently one of the projects for JAXA under this spending required the procurement of several tons of reactor-grade plutonium, which fell under my ministry to provide."

Minato thought the air suddenly felt a lot colder. Then the Minister of the Environment said incredulously: "But our nuclear power plants generally don't use reactor-grade plutonium for fuel. They use uranium-235, 238, and sometimes MOX fuel, except for our only breeder reactor. I apologize, but someone may have ordered the wrong nuclear fuel."

The Minister of State for the Tokyo Olympic and Paralympic Games did not speak for a while, as he seemed busy staring at the clock on the wall. Finally, he said: "The plutonium is not intended for our power plants."

At that moment, the door opened as one cabinet staffer walked in. "I'm sorry," the staffer said, "but the reporters at the Asahi insist that Takahashi-shushou holds the press conference on schedule. They insist on answers to where the discretionary spending actually went, which they say they were promised."

* * *

Compared to the hearty midday meal at the Glazing Poultry, the late evening meal at Jeod's mansion was somewhat lighter. Jeod still made sure to offer at least one meat dish at the table, to demonstrate his goodwill toward the two foreigners. Meat was a luxury and not often eaten by most commonfolk, but as long as they were under his roof, they would get to enjoy the taste of meat on a near daily basis. And to every main meal, they would also be offered white bread, another excess when compared to the brown or unleavened bread eaten by those of less wealth. He was, after all, only offering them the same amenities he himself had grown used to in Teirm.

They seemed to appreciate the food, but appeared to have a harder time swallowing their drinks.

Because Helen was still simmering in her private room, he had Rolf send for her meal. It was highly improper of her not to play the part of hostess and reflected badly on his honor and their family's as a whole, but he could not begrudge her.

After the meal—during which he kept receiving inquiries on the common language from Marie—Jeod handed both of them several cleaning twigs with which to clean their teeth, and then they parted separately from the table while Rolf routinely picked up their plates to have them washed, using water from their private well. Dousing kitchenware in water between meals was not common practise in most homes, but Jeod thought they would appreciate that given the importance they seemed to attach to cleanliness, and he himself liked to have his plates clean, something most people thought him finicky about. He had also shown them the glass mirror he owned, and was surprised by their lack of surprise at the device. Plenty of other people had jumped or otherwise reacted with befuddlement at seeing their own reflection on a surface that was not water, but the two had taken it all in stride. Perhaps they had encountered mirrors before?

Confining himself to the study, he started fumbling for a piece of parchment and quill on his desk. He had to hurry; the sun had already fallen beyond the horizon, and soon it would be too dark for him to see anything without straining his eyes, even with the candles alight. Normally he would never entertain writing missives in the dark, but he needed to inform the Varden of the recent developments as soon as possible. He wondered how much Lord Risthart had been able to figure out about the foreigners he had invited to his castle. From what Jeod knew, Risthart had at least one court magician among his servants. Would they attempt to probe the minds of the foreigners to unravel all there was to know?

The thought filled him with unease. Despite Risthart's erratic priorities, the governor was still loyal to the king. If the Empire had superior knowledge than the Varden and the elves regarding this new distant country, it would be yet another advantage for Galbatorix against his adversaries. Even more so should the Empire be the first in Alagaësia to open up relations with this distant country.

Fortunately, it did not take long to finish composing the missive. He quickly scurried through it:

_Greetings, old friends. It is I, your primary well-wisher from Teirm. May you remain successful in your trying endeavors!_

_First, I would like to apologize for the lack of gifts you ought to have received from me in the past few months. There seem to have been some mishaps with the deliveries along the way. Perhaps your rivals have picked up on the trail and think it best to act disruptively?_

_Having said that, I would now like to offer some important news. Since today (which is a little more than three fortnights since the summer solstice) an unknown ship of a unique design docked at the ports of Teirm, and aboard it were more than a hundred humans._

_It turns out that the ship and the people aboard arrived from lands beyond Alagaësia itself! These people speak an entirely new and different language, which to my ears appear completely unrelated to the languages of either humans, elves, dwarves, or Urgals! They wear clothing never before seen in the Empire and their features also differ from those in the Empire; they all had dark hair and dark eye colors, and distinctive facial complexions. They are light-skinned however. Other than that, very little is known of these foreigners and the lands they come from, but they seem advanced enough to build fairly large ships, high-quality fabrics—judging by their garments—and a figurine that impressed even Lord Risthart._

_The leader of their expedition is presently holding talks with Lord Risthart, the governor of Teirm. It is possible they are seeking an audience with the king, and if so, the Empire might soon be opening up diplomatic ties with an entirely new country. Indeed, these events could prove very fortuitous to the Empire._

_I hope you find these news interesting, old friends._

_Your primary well-wisher from Teirm._

The letter was far more vague and sparse in details than what Jeod would have liked, and to protect his alibi he could not even mention the fact that he himself was hosting a couple of these very foreigners. He had not even mentioned the fact that the foreigners had been in possession of paper, and thus likely had ties with some elven society. Had he mentioned that, it would be far easier for the Empire to trace down the letter to him should it fall into their hands, since many eyes had been present at the Glazing Poultry where he had discovered the piece of paper. Perhaps he was being overly cautious, but he did not wish to be hauled to rot away in Lord Risthart's dungeons, or even worse expose the Varden's position and those of his contacts. The Varden's position had deteriorated so much since the passing of his friend Bro—

_No, don't think about that, old man! Nothing good will come out of it._

If only he was not about to be surrounded by the darkness of nighttime, he could have distracted himself with a scroll or a book. This was why he so strongly loathed nightfall—not because of fear of Ra'zacs or some other nighttime demon, but because it commenced the time of the day when reading was no longer possible, at least for him. The night, Jeod thought, represented illiteracy and ignorance.

He would spend the better part of the next few days scrutinizing his collections for all mentionings of lands beyond Alagaësia, and any historic contacts and exchanges with such lands or peoples of such places. But for now, he would cave in to the inexorable darkening of the day and go to bed.

Early next morning, while everyone else in the mansion was still asleep, Jeod went to the house of one of his most trusted couriers, looking over his shoulder to make sure no watchers were nearby. The courier did not seem to appreciate being rudely awakened so early in the morning, and it took some convincing and several coins to convince him to get on a saddle on a short notice. The courier assured Jeod that he would move with haste, although even at a brisk pace it would take over a month to reach Tronjheim. Almost four hundred leagues separated Teirm from Farthen Dûr.

Jeod then rushed home and went straight to his study, even though he had not yet had breakfast. Thanks to his racing thoughts he had not gotten much sleep the previous night, but the excitement and his jitters since yesterday were still keeping him alert and roused. He was also slightly upset and apprehensive that Helen had chosen to spend the night in her private room. She must truly be furious with him over his latest business losses.

While he already knew by heart most of the contents of the Domia abr Wyrda, he decided it would still be best to start with that immense manuscript. Truthfully, he owned few works that covered the topic of what lay beyond Alagaësia, and he would not be surprised if most such works had not survived Galbatorix's burning and pillaging of the libraries across what was once the Broddring Kingdom. Much of the human race's written works and accomplishments had been lost, and with it the loss of knowledge and bodies of discoveries, from which the human race had never recovered.

As Jeod skimmed through the pages that dealt with the origins of elves, Urgals, humans, and Ra'zacs, he grew increasingly frustrated with the lack of specificity and paucity of details regarding their native lands. Little more was mentioned than the dates the various races had arrived in Alagaësia and the speculated direction from whence they had arrived; the elves and Urgals from the west, or Alalëa specifically in the case of the elves, and the humans and the Ra'zacs from the south, beyond the Beor Mountains.

There was one paragraph in the preface that caught his eye:

_Of the Riders' collected wisdom, only fragments remain, cryptic references scattered like chaff before the wind throughout dwarf scrolls and the elves' ancient stores of knowledge. These often impenetrable shards of truth provide, for the most part, nothing but frustration to one who studies them and is unfamiliar with the source manuscripts, but what can be gleaned seems to indicate that while humans may also dwell somewhere outside of Alagaësia—and Urgals as well, for they are hardy creatures—the elves and dwarves exist nowhere else._

_Elves don't exist anywhere else?_ thought Jeod. He remembered the pieces of paper Marie had carried with her. _No, Heslant was surely mistaken. In any case, if Heslant knew very little of the lands beyond Alagaësia, how could he confidently make the assumption that elves don't exist elsewhere, in the first place?_ Truly, if some of the most authoritative sources indicated that elves no longer exist outside Alagaësia, that only reflected how little was actually known of the outside world. Jeod sighed. Not only had he learned next to nothing from his skimming of the book, he ignorance would have actually amplified had he believed all that was written in it!

Disillusionment filled him as he realized he had gotten too carried away with unrealistic expectations of what he would be able to find. If even the Domia abr Wyrda contained scarce information on other lands, what hope was there to find anything in any of his other books and scrolls? The Domia abr Wyrda had been outlawed across the Empire because of its wealth of information; other works of similar scope would be as well. Works he did not possess. He could perhaps consult with the other Eyes of Arcaena, but could he afford to appear more conspicuous than he already was by sending yet more mysterious letters?

Jeod closed the book and walked outside to the small front yard, whereupon he gazed at the sundial. It was a clear day, so the shadow cast by the gnomon was sharp and pronounced. Several hours had passed since daybreak.

He walked back into the mansion and instructed Rolf to prepare breakfast, including milk, hoping the foreigners would find it more to their liking than the spirits and the wine they had tried so far. He waited patiently for them to wake up and descend the stairs, even though he was by now famished. Or perhaps impatiently, for he could not wait to learn even more about them and their origins. Almost every minutiae thing he learned about them was fascinating and only served to add fuel to his burning curiosity.

Half an hour later the two foreigners came downstairs, where Jeod was waiting for them. "Greetings," said Marie in her accented tone, before bowing.

"Good morrow!" responded Jeod, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. "Breakfast has been prepared. Let us dine in the dining room." He gestured while speaking. He felt his mood brighten just from seeing them. To think, foreigners from lands never before seen were in his house, standing just before him! The Eyes of Arcaena would be green with envy at his once in a millennium fluke. Or was it millennia?

They sat down at the dining table, and Jeod saw Marie's eyes light up at the sight of the mugs of milk. She pointed to her mug.

"Mug, cup," Jeod said while pointing to the mug. "Milk," he said, while pointing to the contents inside. He saw Tsubasa looking at his mug with a pensive expression. Even as they tried to communicate, he noticed that they did not seem to make eye contact as often as most people.

"Pardon me, Tsubasa, but is the milk not to your liking?" Jeod said while pointing to his mug, hoping he was showing a concerned face.

The young man seemed to hesitate, then spoke a few words in their quick language. Marie responded, then appeared to be in thought for a few seconds as she put a few fingers to each side of her temple. Then she lifted up her own mug and started… blowing the milk? It was too hot? And then she pointed to Tsubasa and his mug.

Jeod had not thought his own mug particularly hot, or at least no hotter than milk ought to be; it was barely steaming. He supposed he could offer milk at room temperature in the future, at least to Tsubasa, even if he found the idea a strange one. Milk, like beer, wine, and most other drinks, were always served hot whenever possible. Was that also partly the reason they did not seem keen on the drinks yesterday, because it was too hot for their preferences? But hot drinks were good for one's health, or so it was believed. The more he learned about the foreigners, the more he realized the gaps in cultures and habits.

As with yesterday, the two struggled to pick up the food that was served. They no longer chose to use their hands at all, and the best Jeod could do to make things easier for them was to offer each of them a knife, in addition to the spoon. He had done the same at dinner yesterday.

At that moment he heard the familiar footsteps of his wife enter the dining room, only for them to stop cold. Jeod turned around to find her staring at the two foreigners, flabbergasted. Apparently Rolf had not found it prudent to inform her of the two guests they were currently hosting.

Marie smiled at her and said: "Greetings."

"..."

"Ahh… dear Helen," Jeod said. "You see—"

"Jeod, you yellow-bellied wandought! How dare you bring tramps and peasants into this house?! Merely gambling it away on your bankrupt business was not enough, was it, you shriveling fopdoodle?!" She nearly screeched, pointing at the foreigners, and then banged her fist into the wall.

Jeod felt hurt and anger bubble within him, along with something else. "Be silent, woman!" he growled before he could stop himself, and Helen froze. His fists were tightly clenched as his breathing became more aggravated. The words fell out of his mouth. "Why… how could you... dishonor my… our, and your family's name, by insulting our guests?" He recognized the other feeling within him as a deep sense of shame, for what Helen had just done was truly dishonorable and unworthy of people of their standing. "Perhaps it is us that are the peasants," he finished after taking a few calming breaths. "For our conduct just now is truly worthy of a peasant's. Nay, it is worse," he muttered, shaken from the whole incident. Helen may have been spiteful these last months, but never before had she lashed out like that.

His gaze fell on the foreigners, and his shame only deepened. Tsubasa appeared petrified, while Marie was busy patting his shoulder and murmuring quietly. Both had vacated their seats and were standing. Jeod was about to offer an apology, inadequate however it was, but then Helen spoke:

"But… but courtesy and conduct is only meant for others of high standing! It is not intended to be shown toward peasant—"

"They are not peasants!" Jeod protested. "They are guests, foreigners from a distant country in distant lands, and your actions have just dishonored our names and the entirety of Teirm!" he rambled. Why had it come to this? Had she finally had enough of his business losses?

Had she given up on him?

For one short moment, Helen appeared confounded. Then she glowered. "So it's even worse," she uttered. "They don't even have a place in the estate hierarchy. They are below even peasants. You...you brought foreign barbarians like Palancar..."

"You don't know that!" exclaimed Jeod. He continued: "Have you not dishonored our names enough for a lifetime? Why must you insist upon extending it to our afterlives as well?" He wanted to hide in a corner of the study. By the gods, the shame and hurt were too strong...

"But they don't speak our language, do they," countered Helen, with a brief glare on Marie. Apparently Helen had overheard the other woman's murmuring. "Therefore they don't understand what I am saying, and my honor and that of my family has been spared."

Jeod was dumbstruck by the absurdity of it all. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his mind blank. Perhaps the lack of sleep was finally starting to get back at him, or maybe Helen's reasoning had truly been too bizarre to counter. "You know they aren't peasants in their homeland," Jeod said resignedly, a pleading entering his voice. "Just… look at their clothing."

Jeod wanted to continue arguing with Helen, for he was still grieved and hurt by her actions and demeanor and wanted her to see that. He knew he would not be able to find some measure of peace until he had resolved some of the issues between them that were on display today. But now was not the time, for he needed to de-escalate the situation for the sake of the guests that were present. "Please, Helen." _Please stop. Your antipathy is too much..._

The two foreigners then found themselves under Helen's scrutinizing gaze, and Marie moved to block Tsubasa from her view. Jeod saw Helen's disdainful expression subtly change to one of barely-concealed fascination.

"... The fabric _is_ rather exquisite," Helen conceded. She grudgingly added: "And they are not filthy, like one would expect peasants or nomads to be."

"They are no dirtier than us or any noble," Jeod quickly supplied, seeing his opening. "And their manners are refined, not at all like those of peasants." Seeing as Helen appeared mollified for the moment, Jeod turned to the foreigners. "We would like to offer our deepest apologies," he said. He tried to sound contrite and ashamed, but his heart was not in it. In his mind, Helen's vicious words echoed, and he could not stop seeing the sneer she had directed at him, no matter where he was looking.

Marie looked at him unsurely, while Tsubasa's gaze was frozen at Helen. The mood was tense and awkward, and Jeod realized they might not have understood his apology for what it was. "We are sorry," he tried again, and bowed deeply, adapting the gesture he had so often seen them use. Amid his inner agitation, it was a mighty effort to muster the energy for this second attempt at an apology.

He saw expressions of surprise from the two, and could almost feel the daggers Helen glared at his back. She probably saw what he deigned to do as disgraceful given the differences in stature, but was there any other way to communicate contrition?

He recovered to a standing position and gestured toward the table. "Please," he said. "Let us continue our morning meal. We shall all be happier and more content with our bellies full," he lied.

The four of them slowly sat down at the table, Jeod and Helen on opposite sides of each other as was tradition. With a few words, Marie had Tsubasa and her switch seats so that she was seated closest to Helen.

 _She really is not going to apologize or even look the least contriteful,_ Jeod thought as he chanced a glance at Helen. His throat tightened as he looked at her and so he quickly averted his gaze. He focused on his helping of bread and cheese, sausages, fruits, and various pastries, though it all tasted bland to him.

"They really don't speak the common tongue?" Helen asked.

Jeod continued to stare at his food. He really did not want to participate in aimless chatter with Helen, but he had no choice. With the guests present, conduct was everything. "They don't," he said curtly.

"I never imagined…" Helen muttered. "Just where are they from?"

"They arrived on a ship," Jeod forced himself to say.

"You mean there are more of these… foreigners?"

"Maybe a hundred or two."

"That many?" Helen sounded surprised. Jeod did not answer, and continued to pick at his food halfheartedly. He had lost his appetite.

"I suppose if they are able to build ships, they truly are from a country, and not just nomads," Helen grudgingly admitted. "How has the city authority reacted to all this?" she asked.

"... A few of them met with Lord Risthart."

"Truly? He would deign himself to an audience with these foreigners? You know that in the eyes of the Empire, they are nothing but lowly barbarians."

"Perhaps." He wished Helen would just stop talking.

The door to the dining room opened, and in came Rolf with a cup of steaming red-clover tea, which he served before Helen. Jeod quickly glanced down at his food again. He wondered if Helen would ever feel regret and apologize. Perhaps not.

"Sorry, Jeod."

Jeod looked up at the new voice that had entered the conversation. "Yes?" He gestured for Marie to continue. Helen looked curiously between the two.

Marie hesitantly pointed at the silver cup before Helen.

"Tea," Jeod answered. He knew he should have made it clearer whether he was referring to the cup or the tea within it, but he could not summon the energy to elaborate. He only wanted this breakfast charade to be over with.

"They wouldn't know what that is," remarked Helen with a slightly disparaging glance at Marie. "Even societies close to the Empire, like the wandering tribes, do not know of it, despite the civilizing presence of the Empire. A society so far away they don't even speak our language would be far removed from our civilizing presence. They would not know of tea, or candles, or fine leathers, and all that which exemplifies a refined civilization such as ours."

Despite Jeod's inner turmoil—or maybe because of it—, he could not resist a snippy retort: "Just like how we would not have known of tea had it not been for the civilizing presence of the elves." _Or writing had it not been for the dwarves._

Helen grimaced. "Oh please, Jeod. That was a long time ago, and you know that. The Empire makes all its own tea, which I bet tastes just as fine as whatever those elves make."

"I wouldn't bet on that." Jeod muttered despite himself. At least the petulant discussion did slightly distract him from his heavy feelings.

Helen huffed. "Oh please. I would like to see you live in a lesser, peripheral society, such as where they hail from," she glanced at the foreigners, "you would be begging to be back, and you would be more appreciative of the achievements of a higher civilization." She breathed in and called: "Rolf! Make another two cups of tea for these foreigners!" To Jeod she said: "I want to see their looks when they taste what a higher civilization has to offer."

Jeod saw Marie look at them curiously. He tried to smile at her, straining his jaw muscles into what felt like a grimace. "You two," he pointed at Marie and Tsubasa, "will get to taste our tea." He pointed to Helen's cup, then back to the two foreigners. He did not bother with the mimicking gestures.

"Ahh," Marie said.

"How primitive," deplored Helen. "I wouldn't be surprised if this is how people communicate in lesser civilizations at the periphery," she sighed. Jeod stared at his mostly uneaten platter.

Some minutes later, Rolf arrived with three cups of hot tea, which he gingerly placed by their respective seats. "Thank you," said Marie, and Rolf frowned.

"She seems to have grasped some of our tongue already," Helen said approvingly. "Perhaps she is eager to embrace our country's more cultured way of life."

Jeod would have sighed at such comments, had he not felt so dead inside. Helen was hardly the only one to regard the Empire as the pinnacle of the human race, and Jeod supposed this was true still even with all the damage Galbatorix had wreaked. Surda for all its wealth was considerably smaller and dependent on trade with the Empire for its prosperity. The Empire was unmatched in the size of its population anywhere in the world; with over five million souls within its borders, no other country came close.

But the constant bragging had gotten a bit tiring to hear over the years, with the citizens of the Empire ever relishing in boasting of their country to outside nomads and travelers and others from the periphery of the Empire—whom they looked down upon as primitive and uncivilized—whenever they had the opportunity, mostly to boost their own sense of importance and pride when they saw the sense of awe on the nomad's faces. And it was worrying how human civilization and culture were progressively being conflated with the Empire itself, at least in the major cities.

Jeod had suspected for a while that Galbatorix had a hand in this. By instilling his subjects with a sense of pride in the Empire, and by inextricably linking all of the human race's accomplishments to it, he was also successfully instilling loyalty and pride to himself as their monarch. And by painting humans from outside the Empire and Surda as primitive and uncivilized, that was also how the Varden were slowly being viewed. As a result of all that, recruits to the Varden were dwindling year after year. Not only were the Varden losing the battle of swords; they were also increasingly losing the battle of hearts and minds…

 _The Varden is lost, and you are dooming your own marriage and livelihood just to delay their inevitable demise,_ a treacherous part of his mind whispered.

Marie and Tsubasa sniffed at their red-clover teas, and though Jeod did his best to avoid looking at Helen, he knew she was staring at them intently.

The foreigners seemed fascinated by their cups, which they examined for a moment. Then they started sipping.

He thought he saw Tsubasa blanch slightly, as if in distaste, or maybe he just was not used to the taste. Marie's expression was cordial enough, but Jeod could not garner from it her thoughts on the tea. They talked quietly to each other.

Helen's magnanimous expression turned into a slight frown. Marie noticed the anticipation and politely nodded at them, then seemed to urge Tsubasa to do the same.

Jeod knew there was nothing wrong with the quality of the tea itself. It had been sourced from special plantations around Belatona and was among the best to be found in the upper-middle price class. Only the outrageously expensive chamomile rose tea samplers from the plantations of Urû'baen were of noticeably higher quality. Samplers which Helen used to love, and which Jeod could no longer afford her because of his obligations to the Varden, and the devastating consequences of that.

Helen sniffed. "Oh, well. I suppose tea is an acquired taste, and not for people with simpler palates. You can't deny that seems to be the norm in peripheral societies, right Jeod?"

"I suppose," Jeod said half-heartedly. He looked up briefly from his platter to have a peek at the foreigners and saw Marie glance at him with concern, which only made him feel guilty. He was doing a really poor job with the charade, he knew that, and it frustrated him that he could not even will himself to exert more effort, like there was some kind of mental block stopping him ever since Helen had fulminated at them.

It looked like Marie wanted to say something to him, and then she dug into her leather bag and pulled out a… was that folded parchment? Thick parchment? Double-layered parchment? Jeod was not sure. Its shape was square and it was highly symmetric and smooth. An additional triangle-shaped layer of parchment seemed to cover the upper part, making it extra thick there.

Marie stood up from her seat and walked the short distance to where Jeod was seated, before handing him the curious parchment item, which was yellow-beige in color. "Tea to you," she said, gesturing to her cup, then to him, and then to the parchment item.

Despite his woes, he felt the bewilderment and curiosity rising. "What?" he murmured.

Helen was similarly bemused. "What do you mean by that, ...?" she started asking Marie.

"Her name is Marie," Jeod added absentmindedly, still examining the parchment.

"Just what did—wait, did she actually hand you fine parchment? They can actually make that?"

Jeod scrutinized the parchment content more closely, and then realized he had made the same incorrect assumption as yesterday.

"This is not parchment," he said. "This is paper."

"Pap—what did you say?" Helen asked. "Something that's not parchment?"

"Paper," Jeod clarified. "Another material that can be used for writing. Unlike parchment it's made from wood extract, I think."

Helen seemed slightly baffled. "I've never heard of such a thing," she said. She poked at it and said: "It's too soft to be wood."

"I've never actually seen it before, only read about its descriptions in texts," Jeod said.

"Sorry," Marie chipped in. She gently took the paper from Jeod's prying hands, and then… unfolded the triangle-shaped layer on the top?

Apparently there was space between the layers of paper, and Marie stuck her hand inside to snatch what looked like dried roots or leaves, along with something else? "She pointed to it and said to Jeod: "Tea. To you." It was placed in his hand.

Somehow, Jeod found the gesture more touching than he should. She appeared to have noticed that he was the only one at the table not having a cup of tea, and had quickly offered some. Perhaps it was because of his already turbulent emotional state, and the fact that Helen had not shown him such consideration in a long time, but the gesture made him feel a lump in his throat. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

And then the rational part of him reacted to what Marie had said. "Did you say—"

"Jeod!" Helen burst out. "Did you buy them tea before? How could you squander what few c—"

"N-no," Jeod replied. "I did not." He was still processing the implications of it all.

"But…" Helen seemed at a loss for words. "Then where did they get the tea leaves? They bought it themselves from _Erland's Apothecary,_ or some other shop _?_ "

Jeod only needed a quick glance to confirm his suspicions. "I do not recognize this tea sampler," he said. "This tea was not produced in the Empire."

"What in damnation?" Helen sputtered. She was clearly in disbelief, but refuting Jeod's judgment was a tall order. While Helen's knowledge of tea was fairly sophisticated, Jeod—ever the scholar—was close to an expert on the topic. "Rolf!" Jeod called out, and his voice no longer sounded languid. "Could you please hand us some additional cups and a pot of hot water?"

"Aye, Master Jeod!" came the reply.

Marie retook her seat while they waited. A couple of minutes later, Rolf arrived with the items Jeod had requested. With wordless help from Marie, he filled a few cups with the right ratio of dried ingredients and steaming hot water. Slowly, the water turned a green hue.

"I-it's impossible," Helen stammered, as Rolf handed her one of the cups. She sniffed at it, as did Jeod at his. The aroma was surprisingly pleasant, and less strong and bitter than what he was used to.

Jeod himself found the present situation a little surreal between the lack of sleep, Helen's earlier outburst and the hurt, and the impossible surprises the foreigners kept presenting. To think… a country that was actually able to produce tea! Just what did that mean? He could not help himself; he felt the excitement from earlier this morning resurfacing. Was this another sign that the foreigners had contacts with elves? After all, tea was originally an elven concoction.

"This can't be," said Helen. "Peripheral societies can't make tea!" She stared closely at the substance. "Indeed, this doesn't look like tea at all! The color is all wrong. Maybe it's even poisonous," she rambled.

"They are drinking it as well," Jeod pointed out. At least Tsubasa had been served another cup of their own tea. Their _own_ tea!

Feeling his heart pick up pace, he raised the cup to his lips and sipped.

And he was floored.

Its taste was best described as slightly sweet, savory, and even slightly nutty and earthy, and there were other tastes Jeod could not immediately identify. It was not overpowering, but in fact quite subtle. The customary bitterness of tea was mostly lacking.

It tasted like no other tea he had ever imbibed.

"By the gods, you have to try it!" Jeod proclaimed. And Helen did. Then she blanched and gaped. "No, no, no," she chanted. "How is this possible!" She continued sipping, unable to stop herself.

Jeod was halfway through his cup before he could stop himself. "This… this must surely rival even the finest teas at the king's court," Jeod said. "And it certainly beats the finest teas even nobles here in Teirm could get." In the background, he could hear Marie quietly speaking to Tsubasa.

"Oh, but how?" Helen said. "It's… No society at the periphery should… Jeod, just _where_ do they come from?"

Jeod blinked at her question. "That's a good question," he admitted. That had actually been one of the things he had planned to ask, before his quarrelling with Helen had derailed everything.

"Rolf, could you fetch us the map of Alagaësia?" Jeod asked.

Not a minute later, Rolf was carefully unfurling the map on the table, being sure to avoid all the cups, mugs, and tableware as he did so.

Jeod saw the two foreigners stare intently at the map, whom he had gestured to sit right next to him. "A map," Jeod said when Marie pointed to it. He then swept his finger over the main landmass and said: "Alagaësia." To make sure she understood, he also pointed to the large islands to the west and said "Vroengard," "Beirland," and so on.

Marie gestured around them, then gestured to the western coast of Alagaësia that was enclosed by the spine, with a questioning expression at Jeod.

"Ah," Jeod said and pointed to Teirm. "We are in Teirm. _Teirm._ " _How did she know that's where we are?_

Marie then pointed to the other large cities of the Empire and had Jeod supply her with their names. She then placed multiple fingers on several cities and asked: "This is?"

Jeod was confused for a moment. "You are pointing to multiple cities at the same time," Jeod said, then realized. " _Cities,_ " he said. Marie did the same with the islands to get the word for it in the common language. She then pointed to the only country in Alagaësia whose borders were delineated. "Surda," Jeod said.

"Surda is?"

"Surda is a _country_."

"Teirm are in country?" Marie asked. In the background, Jeod could hear Helen scoff lightly.

"Teirm is in..." he hesitated. " _The Empire_." He really wished he could have said "the Broddring Kingdom", or even "the Broddring _Empire_ ". Just "the Empire" was a nonsensical name to call a country, but he had no choice. That was the name Galbatorix had chosen for the largest country in the world, and in any case, Galbatorix was not of the descending line of the Broddrings. "The Empire," Jeod repeated.

"The Empire," Marie pronounced in a respectful tone and smiled, and Jeod inwardly cringed.

"Ask them where they come from," Helen interjected impatiently.

"I shall." Jeod pointed to the two foreigners, then swept one hand over the map questioningly. "Where are you from?" he asked. He swallowed in anticipation as he awaited the answer.

"Ah," said Marie. She then gestured to the western edges of the map.

A pregnant silence filled the dining room. Then Helen breathed out: "There is actual land there?"

Jeod himself was flummoxed by this revelation. "But that is… I had thought they were still from the same landmass as Alagaësia," he whispered. "But to be actually separated by the sea…"

"Jeod, that's just unnerving to think about, imagine how close to the edge of the world they must be!"

"Maybe…" Jeod began. "It is said that the elves too originally came from a land to the west of here, which they called Alalëa." He then turned to Marie and asked: "Alalëa? Have the two of you heard of Alalëa?"

"I Alalëa don't know," Marie said apologetically.

"Then… What is the name of your country?" He pointed to himself and Helen and said: "The name of our country is… the Empire," he said the last part a little too nonchalantly. He then pointed to the two foreigners. "What is the name of your country?"

Marie quickly caught on to his question, and answered: "Japa—"

"Neehon."

"Huh?" Jeod turned to face Tsubasa. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Jeod asked, surprised. This was probably one of the first times Tsubasa had addressed him directly. Marie chuckled in the background, but there was no ill intent behind it.

"Nihon," Tsubasa enunciated. "Country. Name." His accent was noticeably thicker than Marie's, but Jeod was surprised that he had at all picked up words of the common language.

"Nihon," Jeod repeated. _Nihon._ He finally had a name for the country that had intrigued him so for much of the past day, an intrigue that was now coming back. The hurt from Helen's earlier pugnacity had been pushed to the side, for now.

"What a strange name for a country," commented Helen.

There was so much Jeod wanted to ask, that he wished he _could_ ask. Body gestures and affirmations could only do so much. He supposed he could try a few simple questions.

"How large is your country?" he asked. He used hand gestures to express different sizes on the map.

"Ah," Marie answered. "Island country."

"Island?" Jeod blurted. "Your country is an island? It is not on a landmass, like the Empire?" His gestures complemented his words.

"Yes, Jeod. Is an island. Nihon is island country."

At this, Helen sighed lamentably. "Oh well, I suppose it was too much to hope that their "country" was actually part of a mainland."

Jeod tried, he really did, to hide the disappointment from his expression. He did not wish to show any disrespect toward them, especially since they had treated him with nothing but respect and kindness in turn. "That's interesting," he said insincerely.

But their country was an island. Island societies were small and primitive—he meant simple. Beirland, the currently largest inhabited island on the map, had a population in the low tens of thousands. Even if this Nihon was larger, he could not imagine it approaching a country like Surda in size. Even if the Varden was somehow able to get its support, its assistance would matter little. The consolation was that the Empire would not benefit much from opening up ties with it, either.

But the more he thought about it, the less sense it all made. After all, the foreigners had arrived on a large ship. The clothing they wore was a result of great tailoring. They had tea that surpassed the Empire's. They even had paper and silver. Island economies were supposed to be simple, and based around farming, hunting, fishing, simple weaving, and little else, not intricate goods or structures of complex engineering.

 _They probably received all this from the elves,_ he reasoned to himself. _Although the tea is a mystery. Elven tea is supposedly made from berries and berry extracts, which their tea clearly is not._

He was thinking of ways to inquire them on their contacts with elven societies when Tsubasa suddenly pointed to a point on the map that depicted numerous ragged elevations.

"Oh, that's the Beor Mountains, or the Beors. The mountains there are said to be very large and very high." He stretched out his arms to demonstrate. _How curious that his attention should just happen to land on the mountains that host the Varden._

Tsubasa's expression had changed. He resumed staring at the Beors on the map, and Jeod saw that his face had taken on a look that was both solemn and resolute, as if he…

"Perhaps you will see the mountains yourself one day, Tsubasa, should your stay in Alagaësia prove to be enduring," said Jeod. Based on the look he received, he knew he had not been well understood. Jeod continued, seeing an avenue to the question he intended to ask: "The Beor Mountains are rumored to be home to the dwarves."

Jeod raised his voice, and called: "Rolf, could fetch the book on the races of Alagaësia? You know which one I'm talking about."

"Aye, Master Jeod!"

"Rolf will return with a book that describes the various _races_ of Alagaësia," Jeod informed the foreigners. Marie, who had been looking at Tsubasa with a thoughtful face ever since he had brought up the Beors, turned her attention back to Jeod. "Races?" she asked.

"Aye," said Jeod. He pointed to himself and said "human." Then he did the same with Helen, the two foreigners, and the direction where he thought Rolf was. "Humans. We are all _humans._ We are all of the human race." Jeod finished.

"Human is race?" Marie asked.

"Yes," Jeod responded, surprised by her quick acumen. "So are—"

"Here it is." Rolf placed the thin but wide book on the table. Jeod thanked him and went on to flick through the rough, yellow-brown pages until he landed on the section about dwarves. He did not care much for the text itself; it was the drawings he wanted to show them.

He pointed to the pale-colored drawing which showed several stout, short men and women. Like all drawings, the depiction was crude and imprecise and what was being represented was hardly what it actually looked like, but such was the inherent reality of drawings. Except for the magic that the elves used, it was simply impossible to create images that accurately reflected what was being depicted.

Jeod pointed to the crude portrayal and pronounced the words "dwarf, dwarves" to inform them of the name they were called in the common language.

"Dwarf..." Marie murmured in confusion. A growing disbelief filled her face. "Dwarf is race?" she uttered in trepidation.

"Yes!" affirmed Jeod. He pointed to the Beor Mountains and said: "Here is where the dwarves live, or at least many people think so." At the growing bafflement on both the foreigner's faces, he asked: "Are there any dwarves in Nihon?"

"A-ree-enai," Tsubasa murmured, ignoring Jeod's question. Marie was busy gaping. Finally, she recovered: "No Jeod. Nihon are no dwarves." She pointed to the Beors and imploringly asked: "Dwarves are?"

"You mean if dwarves live there? Many think so, yes" said Jeod. "Dwarves do exist somewhere in Alagaësia." He swept one hand over the map. He knew of course that dwarves lived in the Beors, but had to feign ignorance to avoid exposing himself.

Jeod surmised that the lack of dwarves farther west should prove no surprise, as they were said to be native of Alagaësia. It did please him, however, that for once he was not the one on the back foot. The foreigners still seemed shocked at the revelation of a dwarven race.

He then flipped the pages to the race he had been yearning to inquire them about. The drawing was so rudimentary that it would have been impossible to identify the elves as such—rather than as humans—had it not been for their pointed ears. Jeod felt a sense of doubt; maybe they would not be able to tell what the drawing was depicting?

But when Jeod pointed to the pointed ears, Tsubasa blurted out: "Na-nee!" He seemed to have lost his reserved composure, and Marie was in a stupor.

"Elf, elves," Jeod quickly filled in. "They are said to be living in this forest to the north." He pointed to Du Weldenvarden. Then he asked without thinking: "There are elves in Nihon as well, am I correct?"

Marie answered him with a dazed look: "What?"

"Elves," Jeod repeated. "Are there elves in Nihon?"

"Ahh, no Jeod." She shook her head.

"What?!" Jeod exclaimed. "But... but you recognized them!"

"Sorry, what? Nihon are no elves."

"Are you sure?" He pointed to an elf on the drawing, then beckoned to beyond the far-western edge of the map, then pointed to Marie.

He got the same answer. And when he asked them to elaborate on their knowledge of elves, it fell on uncomprehending ears, owing to the language barrier. _Perhaps they are lying,_ thought Jeod. _But why?_

"This is getting repetitious," Helen finally interjected. "Until they are more proficient in our common language, you won't be able to reap more answers from them."

"Will you help me teach them our language at the times I'm away at the citadel?" Jeod asked, frowning on the inside. Her earlier belligerence was still fresh on his mind, and asking her for a favor so soon after that made him feel uncomfortable.

Helen sighed. "I'll admit that I'm curious myself of their origins. And if they could share with us their recipes for tea making…"

Jeod nodded. He turned to the foreigners and said: "I'm off to do my trade. I'll be back well before dusk." In truth, he had no planned work for today, but he needed to find out how the meeting between Lord Risthart and the foreigners went, and if the governor had attempted to use his court magician to extract information from their minds.

Once he arrived at the castle, he promptly asked a servant about the foreigners Lord Risthart had invited to the citadel.

"I've heard that Lord Risthart is quickly losing his patience with them, sir. His lordship is finding it impossible to communicate because of their muteness."

"Muteness?" Jeod repeated.

The servant shrugged. "If the only thing they can speak is a barbarian's tongue, is that not akin to muteness, sir?"

Jeod then spent the rest of the day walking through the rather damp and grimy hallways, intending on discreetly investigating the circumstances surrounding the foreigners. Like most days, smoke filled the castle from the burning torches set into the walls, irritating his eyes, nose, and lungs, and Jeod found himself questioning Lord Risthart's sanity as he always did during his excursions in the citadel. Just who in their right mind would set up torches _indoors_?! Not to mention they needed to be replaced every hour and the ashes needed to be constantly cleaned up, taking up a considerable portion of the castle servants' labor and a non-trivial portion of the city's finances. He was hardly the only one opposed to this particular expression of Risthart's madness, but it seemed no one dared openly voice it before the governor.

Most of Jeod's unknowing informants were servants and other merchants, as most nobles would not deign to speak to someone of his stature—which had suffered along with his business misfortunes—, and the accounts he got of their attitudes toward the foreigners were second hand. From what he garnered, sentiments of condescension toward the foreigners seemed to be ubiquitous, especially from the ones who had not personally met them. This was to be expected; the foreigners had come from the periphery in a world view where the Empire, the civilizing presence, was at the center, and so there was only limited interest in their lands, though some appeared to be begrudgingly intrigued after seeing their fine clothing. Others had expressed hope that Lord Risthart would soon evict "the mute barbarians" from his castle.

Eventually, Jeod managed to find out from the librarian, who happened to be a good friend of the court magician, that the magician had indeed attempted to read the minds of the foreigners. Unfortunately (or maybe not), the magician had not been able to comprehend their spoken thoughts because they were in a different language. And it seemed that Lord Risthart had not bothered to pursue the matter further by attempting to recruit a more skilled magician.

Once he was alone, Jeod exhaled in relief, then coughed from the smoke. He knew that more adept magicians were better able to read nonverbal thoughts, such as images, feelings, and sensations, and could also dig deeper into people's minds to actually browse memories and extract knowledge without the need to understand the words behind them. But the court magician's skill was restricted to reading surface thoughts, and even then only verbal ones.

Having one less thing to worry about, Jeod tarried in his business headquarters until afternoon—the wooden window shutter wide open to ventilate as much smoke as possible—while trying not to think about the state of his business half a year from now should the ship disappearances continue. At least for the next coming months, he would devote much of his efforts to teaching the foreigners they were hosting the common language. All the while, the question of whether elves existed in Nihon would gnaw at his mind.

On his way out of the castle, he saw a couple of the foreigners, clad in their simple yet exquisite robes. They appeared to be loitering by the fortress's main gate, not an uncommon practise among the castle's dwellers who sought refuge from Risthart's fascination with smoke-infested hallways. They seemed as clean and well-groomed as the foreigners he was hosting, and seemed to carry the same refined mannerism and… an air of authority? One of them caught him staring, and smiled at him before bowing, and then surprised him by saying: "Well met." The greeting was accented but still perfectly intelligible.

Jeod bowed back, and it was their turn to be surprised. "Well met," he responded sincerely. _Are they all as gifted at picking up new languages?_

The foreigner he was talking to opened his mouth to respond, and then suddenly gawked, staring at a point behind Jeod, his eyes bulging out, while letting out a breathless gasp. The other foreigner quickly lost his dignified composure in the same manner, also staring at whatever was behind Jeod while fumbling for some tiny object in his pocket that appeared black and square-shaped.

 _Huh?_ Jeod turned around, and found a congregation of people gathered around a man dressed in overly long robes, whom Jeod recognized as the court magician. The magician seemed to be giving one of his usual public performances, to the delight of the crowd. A small rock was levitating above his outstretched hands, and then he set it on fire. The rock was then magically flung away as the magician proceeded to conjure a red ball of light the size of a large pearl.

Jeod turned back, intending to politely inquire the foreigners if they were finding the performance entertaining, but his eyes met empty air. His gaze found them more than a dozen yards away, appearing to be in a great hurry as they quickly strode out of the castle gate.

_What in Heslant's name was that?_

Once he had returned to the mansion, he was met with the sight of Marie and Tsubasa waiting for him by the stairs. "Greetings Jeod!" said Marie. "We go bathhouse."

"Again?!" Jeod uttered incredulously. "But it was only yesterday that you bathed."

"They are also very fastidious about constantly washing their hands, even when they are not greasy," came Helen's voice from another room. "Just let them bathe, we can't stop their folly as it is. It's a wonder they look as healthy as they do."

Jeod blinked. In all his years of researching, he had never come across a human culture with such a proclivity for ablutions. Surely there had to be some religious rationale behind it all. Perhaps their religion compelled them to fall sick, like how the religion of Helgrind compelled their followers to self-mutilat—

No, that was too drastic a conjecture, or at least he hoped it was. "Well then," said Jeod as he stopped his ruminations, and then instructed Rolf to give the two some linen towels. "I will come with you, but I won't bathe," he clarified. While he could not stop them from exposing themselves to the miasma, there was no need to unnecessarily endanger his own health.

And so they were once again off to Teirm's only public bathhouse. He hoped this would not become a daily routine.


	11. Conversations among Barbarians

Minor and mostly irrelevant revisions happen to older chapters from time to time. Three worth mentioning are:

• In chapter 7, a small mention about international law has been added. Specifically, the foreign ministry officials warn the prospective members that the expedition to Alagaësia is a violation of international law (UN Charter, Article 2, et al.) so they are all aware of the consequences of the expedition.

• In an earlier version of chapter 9, Jeod muses that it is improper for unmarried people to sleep in the same bed. This has been changed to account for the fact that, according to certain historical sources, it wasn't uncommon for strangers to sleep in the same bed in pre-early modern Europe.

• Earlier versions of this fic had several Japanese people shrugging. This has been changed to account for differences in body gestures between the West and Japan (a sloppy oversight).

Feel free to add suggestions on future plot developments, and whether there should be additional Dragon Riders.

* * *

**Conversations among Barbarians**

Jeod's hopes were swiftly dashed. Day by day, the foreigners would stop by the bathhouse so they could continue gambling with their health. After the first few days, and when Jeod had determined that they could find their way to one of the city's nexus of contagions and back on their own, Jeod stopped accompanying them altogether. He would probably go there one more time before winter arrived, to properly wash himself and enjoy the warmth of the waters for the last time before the coming spring, but that was how far he would take his self-indulgences.

The coming winter. He had promised Helen he would endeavor harder to recoup the losses from his business misfortunes, so that he could again provide her with the comfortable life she was used to. That had been the outcome of their heavy but necessary conversation to sort out some of the issues in their relationship. And in the months before winter was the seasonal trading period when trade activity would spike for a manner of goods, such as a variety of harvest items, seeds, poultry—for their eggs—, preserved foods, salt and other food preservatives, ale and beer, wool, firewood and fuels, candles, oil and fats, and more. Jeod resolved himself to take advantage of the ample business opportunities this seasonal trading period would provide, and hopefully, just hopefully, their financial situation would start turning around.

And they themselves would have to start stocking up on many of those items, for winter was harsh and not for the ill-prepared, even in a good harvest year. While Teirm had mild winter seasons, one could still not grow things during this time of year. Ominously, the harvest so far this year had been rather poor and at the current rate Jeod feared that, in Teirm, at least a few hundred more than usual would not make it into the next summer. The Empire's punishing taxes were not helping either.

He continued to ruminate on their financial situation until he finally arrived home to his mansion. He tried to sneak past the entrance hall…

"Where have you been?"

Jeod nonchalantly turned to face the direction Helen was standing by the door to one of the hallways, answering casually: "Just a routine trip to a chandlery, Helen. We have been burning more candles than usu—"

Helen interrupted him by snatching his pack from his hand, opening it to examine what was inside, and Jeod stopped himself from wincing inwardly.

With a sullen expression, she finally said: "Those aren't beeswax candles. Are you so destitute that you can no longer afford to buy even such cheap commodities?"

"The shop happened to be offering generous discounts today only for tallow candles," Jeod said, then regretted his wordings, for they only served to drive home Helen's point. "Helen, dear, tallow candles are little different from beeswax—"

"Tallow candles are for… for peasants!"

"No, they are not," Jeod quickly hurried to say. "Peasants burn rushlights, or nothing at all. Many people of the higher classes burn tallow candles, they are no worse than beeswax."

Helen huffed. "I know very well that it's because you can no longer afford beeswax candles." Then she turned around to walk away.

Feeling slightly ashamed, Jeod started walking up the stairs to the study. In truth, him having to buy the much cheaper tallow candles filled his soul with disgrace, but he had to put up a face before Helen. He had to honor his promise, but how, gods how? His business was falling, another ship had disappeared, and there was nothing he—

"Greetings again, Jeod."

Putting aside his anxious thoughts, Jeod looked to the two foreigners who occupied the study. Every day the two would be taught in the common language, as well as such that pertained to the Empire, including its customs, culture, and other particulars. Jeod, Helen, and even Rolf offered their time in this pursuit. Even Helen's initial reluctance had thawed as the foreigners had proven to be remarkably well-mannered, probably moreso than most wealthy businessmen Jeod had had the fortune or misfortune of hosting. That was not to say that cultural misunderstandings did not occur, but it had never resulted in any serious breach of decorum, by Imperial or Surdan standards.

From what he had heard, the same was largely true for all the foreigners currently staying in Teirm. To the surprise of even himself, the foreigners—or _Nihonjin_ as Tsubasa had explained that they were called—had caused almost no trouble in the city in the more than one fortnight that they had been here. No rowdy or unruly behavior, or other forms of lawlessness. The dwellers of Teirm were used to vagrant acts and ruffianism from sailors across the Empire, and had therefore expected these "barbarians" from barbarian peripheries to be far worse. Yet these fears had not materialized, even though these barbarians were surely scrutinized and judged far more harshly than sailors from the Empire, and any unsavory behavior on their part would have been blown out of proportion.

"Likewise, Marie, Tsubasa," answered Jeod as he deposited the candles and took a seat, offering them to do the same. "Now, I don't have anything else planned for the rest of the day, so would the two of you like to continue practising the common language by conversing? And some reading lessons in between?"

Jeod had been deeply impressed by their aptitude in absorbing the common language, especially Marie's. Tsubasa also appeared to be more skilled at it than the average human, even though his rather withdrawn nature gave him fewer opportunities to practise speaking it. This was all the more remarkable as they were learning the common language entirely from scratch, without the aid of any dictionary or anyone to translate words for them. Jeod himself had taken many years to attain an adequate proficiency in the ancient language, and that had been with proper instruction from others already familiar with it, as well as various books and scrolls to explain vocabulary and grammatical rules.

Yet what had surprised him the most had been their request to learn the letters as well, a skill considered redundant and therefore not practised by most people in Alagaësia. It had quickly become obvious to Jeod that they already possessed the skill of reading in their own language, as they had seemed familiar with many general aspects of writing and reading.

"Yes Jeod. We want practise numbers. Big numbers," said Marie, nodding as she spoke. Was nodding while speaking a common gesture among the Nihonjin?

Tsubasa did not say anything, but seemed to listen in on their discussion intently.

"Numbers?" asked Jeod. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, didn't we already go through all the numbers from one to nine? As well as ten to a hundred, and thousand? You simply add the numbers one to nineteen to hundred, and all those numbers to thousand." In fact, they had even practised writing these numbers just a few days ago.

"Yes! We know. Want to learn big numbers. Ten, hundred, thousand, and…?"

"Ten thousand," answered Jeod, somewhat bemused. It was uncommon for people to be interested in numbers of such large sizes, especially women who rarely concerned themselves with numbers at all. Truthfully he had been more than a little surprised by Marie's interest in learning numbers in the first place. He had heard from merchants who had dealt with these Nihonjin—both men and women—that they all seemed to have a knack for numbers. They also seemed to know their own age; when asked, neither Marie nor Tsubasa had given a number that had ended with a five or zero, which was a common practise among people who did not keep track of how old they were and therefore gave an approximate, rounded number. Other merchants who had inquired about the age of various Nihonjin had the same story to tell; they seemed almost all aware of their own age. To Jeod, who was used to the rule that almost half of the people he met did not keep track of their exact age, this was yet another of the many salient tendencies about the foreigners.

"Ten thousand," repeated Marie. "Twenty thousand? Hundred thousand? Two hundred thousand?" Jeod nodded to all queries, becoming increasingly confused by the ridiculously high numbers.

"Thousand thousand?"

Jeod blinked. "No, that's... a million." _But why would you want to know such a large number?_ he wanted to ask. Most commoners had never heard of the number "million". Few people had need of such a large number in their lives.

To Jeod's utter astonishment, it did not end there.

"Million, two million... ten million, hundred million?" Marie counted. Jeod could do nothing but nod dumbstruck.

"Thousand million?"

"I..." Jeod began. "I don't know." He might have stumbled upon the name of such a number during his scholarly activities, but if so it had been long forgotten.

Tsubasa chose then to point to a piece of paper on the desk table. "Write million?" he asked in an accented tone.

So Jeod wrote down both the word for million as well as the actual numerals (he had to check several times to get the latter right). As always he could not help but marvel at the smoothness of the paper.

It was at times like these when he wished he could just properly communicate with them, to ask them about their lands, society and history. Oh, he had tried, but everytime the language barrier had frustrated his attempts. Yet every passing day he garnered something about them that reminded him just how different their culture was from that of the Empire. Even the differences in body gestures had led to occasional misunderstandings. And ingenious as they were in picking up the common language, it would still take years for them to achieve the level of fluency needed for Jeod to truly communicate with them.

If they were staying for that long.

"Do many people in your country know of the number million?" Jeod asked, curious. "Here, most people do not." He doubted things were different in Nihon, and that the foreigners that had arrived here were simply an exceptionally learned bunch.

"Sorry?"

Jeod repeated his question with even simpler words.

"Yes," answered Marie. _What?!_

"You mean to say," Jeod started slowly, "that many people, even commoners, perhaps even a few peasants, know the number million, or thousand thousand?"

It was Tsubasa who answered: "Ninety... ninety-nine people know. If hundred people. I think."

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" wondered Jeod. That ninety-nine people knew of the number million?

"If are hundred people," Marie started, "ninety-nine know number million. If are thousand, nine-hundred ninety know number million."

"Do you mean... no," Jeod breathed. "That's impossible!"

Tsubasa shrugged. "Okay, don't believe."

Marie said something quietly to Tsubasa. To Jeod, she said, "I understand, Jeod. Believe... is hard."

Jeod struggled to process what they had said. Then he asked a question that had been on his mind for a while: "If there are a hundred people, how many could read and write? Here, maybe at most ten out of a hundred could, and fewer among peasants. Is it the same in Nihon?"

"Nihon, ninety-nine," Tsubasa answered.

A quiet filled the study. Then Jeod forced a laugh. "You have a good sense of humor, young man," he remarked.

"Thank you," replied Tsubasa.

Before Jeod could say anything more, they were interrupted by Rolf, who placed a large silver tray with three cups of tea. The foreigner's tea, which had become a highly coveted commodity among some commoners, ever since the foreigners had donated a few samples to a few of Teirm's taverns for commoners to try. The gentry and nobility, of course, had refused to have anything to do with the "barbarian concoction". A few merchants had even tried to sneak into their red ship to "borrow" more samples, but had been eluded by the ship not being docked at port. At the times that it was docked, it was under the watchful eye of the foreigners, who refused anyone entry except themselves.

They took their offered cups of teas, with Jeod noting once again how the foreigner's hands seemed to lack in calluses.

As they sipped on their teas, Tsubasa said, "Question, Jeod."

"Go on," Jeod responded.

Tsubasa seemed to struggle for the words. "Read head, people can?" he finally asked. To clarify, Marie said, "People can read inside head?"

Jeod hesitated. This was a sensitive subject, as the Empire was suspicious of people who were too knowledgeable on the mind arts, and tried to restrict such information. The fact that the Nihonjin knew so little about mind reading suggested to him that the same was true in their home lands.

Sensing his hesitation, Tsubasa fished for several silvery coins in his pockets and placed them on the desk. "Trade?" he offered.

Jeod faltered. It was very much unlike him to be swayed like that, but his ailing business and financial situation had provided him a sense of desperation.

Tsubasa continued: "Have more." He pointed to the coins. "Are yellow." He pointed out the window, at the direction of the city harbor.

"Are yellow?"

"We have yellow coins," Marie filled in.

"You mean to say that you have gold coins?!" Jeod exclaimed.

"Don't know," answered Tsubasa.

Jeod sighed. "You don't have to offer me that," he said. "I'll tell you what I know about mind reading, but you both need to understand that the Empire does not like people knowing about it. Don't tell people what I told you, okay?" he tried to keep it simple, hoping they would understand.

Marie seemed surprised by this, and Tsubasa as well once she had translated for him. They both nodded. Jeod then said, "Only a very few people possess the ability to read minds. Usually, such people are also magicians." He still remembered when Marie and Tsubasa had pressed him for answers on magic and magicians (it had taken Jeod many minutes to understand the topic of their inquiries), just days after they had first arrived. They seemingly had had a hard time believing anything Jeod told them, and the language barrier back then had made the entire questioning session a deep struggle for everyone. Jeod was still not sure how much of what he had said had been successfully communicated, even as he had limited his responses due to the sensitive nature of the topic.

Marie's eyes widened at the information and Tsubasa seemed introspective. "Magician read us?" Tsubasa asked. The atmosphere turned tense.

"I asked a few people about it," Jeod said. "To their knowledge, the court magician under Lord Risthart tried to examine the minds of a few of you, but he could only read thoughts composed of words… you know, the words you think in your head. Because you speak another language, he was unable to understand anything he got from any of you."

"Can only read words inside head?"

"Well… more skilled mind readers could achieve more than that. They would be able to see what you see, hear what you hear… even read your memories—rest assured," Jeod quickly asserted, "that I don't think any such people have tried to access your minds. Such people are very rare indeed and probably no one currently living in Teirm possesses such abilities. They are concentrated in the largest and most important cities of the Empire, such as Urû'baen, Dras-Leona, and Gil'ead."

The two Nihonjin seemed to relax somewhat at those words. Then Marie asked: "Mind readers can decide what I do? If tell my minds, jump! I jump?"

"Yes," said Jeod reluctantly, after he had comprehended the question. "Those who can read minds also possess the ability to dominate it."

Marie's expression turned uncharacteristically grave. "Can we stop people? Stop read our minds?"

"There are a few ways. The most common one for those without magical powers is to focus on one thought to the exclusion of everything else." And Jeod spent some time explaining the basics of mind defense. Because of the language difficulties, it took a while.

After he was done, he could not resist asking: "This information is very sensitive in your country as well, I take it? That is, your country doesn't want people knowing about the basics of mind reading."

But Marie shook her head. "In Nihon are no mind readers."

Jeod raised an eyebrow. "Surely that can't be? Any magician also has the ability to read minds. I mean no offense, but perhaps your magicians are keeping this fact a secret from you?"

"In Nihon are no magicians."

Jeod opened and closed his mouth. "I…" he started saying. He was not sure what to say. It was true that many people in the Empire, mainly peasants, did not believe in the existence of magic. But it had been obvious to Jeod for long that Marie and Tsubasa were no mere peasants.

Come to think of it, it was not just these two. He remembered the shocked reactions expressed by the Nihonjin at Risthart's citadel. And there were more than a hundred of these Nihonjin who could exchange information with each other. What was the likelihood that not a single one of them were aware of the existence of magicians in Nihon? Not even Galbatorix could curb the spread of such information.

"There… there are no magicians in Nihon?"

"Yes, Jeod. No magicians. No magic."

A country without magicians. Jeod tried to imagine that. Such a country… had to be poor. It was accepted by many scholars that the higher the prevalence of magic users, the more prosperous and civilized a society became. Hence, elves were more prosperous and civilized than humans and dwarves, and the order of Dragon Riders stood above them all. Jeod contemplated sending this unprecedented information to Ajihad, but decided against it. Ajihad would not concern himself with a small island country whose inhabitants did not even know about the existence of magic. Common sense would dictate that such a country was too marginal to play any role in Alagaësian conflicts, even if it wanted to.

Then again, Nihon and common sense did not go that well together, in Jeod's experience.

"Jeod?"

Jeod blinked, returning to the present. "Sorry, I was in deep thought about something. There is something I've been meaning to ask: who is your king or queen?"

"What?" asked Tsubasa. Marie tilted her head, another gesture he noticed a lot with her.

"The highest person in a country. The one who rules and decides in a country, the one who everyone has to listen to, the leader. A king is male, and a queen female. They are also called monarchs. Their rule is passed on to their children." _Or to kingkillers._ "The king of the Empire is… Galbatorix," Jeod forced himself to say. "The king of Surda is Orrin. Who is your king or queen?"

They both seemed to hesitate. "Naruhito king," Tsubasa finally said.

Jeod repeated the name a few times until he got the pronunciation reasonably well. "Is Naruhito a good monarch?" he then asked. He wanted to know if this Naruhito was just as tyrannical as Galbatorix. Since they were official members of an expedition sent by their country, and therefore had to represent their monarch, the two Nihonjin before him would have to praise their king in response to his question, but perhaps he would be able to make out signs of inauthenticity in their tones and expressions.

To his utter surprise, Tsubasa shrugged and Marie said, "Sorry, I don't know."

"... I don't understand," Jeod said, more to himself than to the other two. "Won't you get punished for not praising him?" At their confused looks, he said in a low voice, "If I were to say 'I don't like Galbatorix' and people heard of it, I would be punished. They would throw me in the dungeons or cut off my head," he made a motion of cutting off his head. Then he added: "To praise is to say only good things about something or someone. I would have to praise my king or be punished. Is it not the same in Nihon?"

Marie looked slightly dismayed by his decapitation example, but said, "No, is not. I can say 'Naruhito, I don't like.' No punish. Or 'no king Naruhito'. Is fine."

"Even if you say it in Nihon, in front of guards?" Jeod blurted out. Even in Surda or in Tronjheim, such an act was worthy of serious punishment. Surely it would be no different in Nihon...

Tsubasa said: "If say, 'don't like Naruhito king', front of Naruhito. Is fine."

* * *

In the dingy tavern of the Green Chestnut, several workmen sat huddled by a corner table, unloading a shared exhaustion and frustration that came with a particularly hard day of labor.

"—barbarians are taking seats from us at taverns!" one of the fellows grumbled. "How dare they!"

"Aye, Halvar. They be taking our inns as well," another one grunted, bits of food flying out of his mouth onto the table. "And the innkeepers be traitors, how they keep giving them rooms."

"They care so much about the coins they let the barbarians rob us! Rob us dry!"

"Everything but the harlots," another man who looked more refined than the rest, remarked. "See, I was at the whorehouse yesterevening. Harlot tells me, with tears of relief, they have never received a barbarian sojourner, or any other whorehouses either. They pray things will not change. 'Tis a bit surprising, no? The barbarian, after all, is known for its wanton ways and uninhibited carnal desires."

"Mayhap not the whorehouses, but have you heard how they always go to the bathhouse," said Halvar, before spitting at a corner. "Revolting is what it is!"

"If they continue to stay, soon they will sicken half of Teirm—"

"All of it, you mean."

"I hear they have been fraternizing with the healers at the almshouses. It's true, the barbarian relishes in seeing us sick and deprived!

One of them sneezed into the table, before saying, "I saw one of them barbarians the other day. Heard their garbled tongue. Very scrawny for barbarians, they are. And they wore those clothes, those fine clothes. How dare them barbarians wear clothes not for barbarians. They stole it from us, I swear!"

"They think they are something, that they are actually worthy of talking to us Imperials, because of those clothes. And they don't allow us aboard their savage ship. Bah! We ought to not grace them with our presence, barbarians are too beneath us, but still we do!"

"We should take their lands to show them their place, and to show the barbarian the might of civilization," Halvar said. "Long live the king!"

"—their ship doesn't look half bad…"

"—ye mean _stolen_ ship—"

"By the way, just what was their savage land called again?"

"Japan," another man said with disgust.

Right then Gareth, the bartender, chose to appear at their table, asking if they wanted more beer.

"Oi, Gareth! What say you about the barbarian sullying our Empire?"

Gareth hesitated. "A few of them have showed up here," he admitted. "Their manners have not been… inappropriate."

"You traitor, Gareth!"

* * *

_Reiwa 2 September 4_

Tsubasa looked out at the gray sea before him, breathing in the stale smell of salt and dead phytoplankton. Around him the many dock workers went about their business, some sending him suspicious, even scornful glances. Rarely, a few would spit in his direction. Tsubasa tried to ignore those as he continued to stare, perhaps too intently, at the flat horizon and the few ships that sailed in and out of the docks.

In terms of establishing amicable relations with the locals of the city, he was more and more of the opinion that the whole thing had been a failure. Not that he or the others working for the foreign ministry were too surprised by that. Back on Earth, Japan had always been less well-liked than most other developed countries, with international newspapers tending to frame the country as deviant and plagued with social and cultural issues unique to Japan, using sweeping, simplistic generalizations often not backed by data to generate one-sided, almost caricatural coverage, and somehow always managing to attribute all that to Japan's ostensibly dysfunctional society and culture. This in contrast to the coverage of other developed countries which tended to be more nuanced and balanced, data-dependent, less tending toward simplistic generalizations and attributions, and just less critical in general. And even when not critical, it seemed that Japan was often framed as _different_ , a global _other_ , in international discourses.

Because of this, them being perceived as completely foreign by the local populace was rather easy to get used to, if only a more amplified version of what they would have experienced in America and Europe. Even Japan's status in international affairs as an outsider country had not changed, only been entrenched. Still, Tsubasa found himself wondering what had warranted the level of resentment toward them by some in the city, especially with them trying their utmost to be on their best behavior. Could it be because of their violation of the country's territorial integrity?

Glancing at the sky, where he figured the sun was behind a fluffy cloud, he tried to gauge the time of day, as the only clocks in their possession were on the lower decks of the red seal ship. Precise time had ceased to have meaning since their arrival in the city of Teerm, in the country of Rikesens on the subcontinent of Ala-Gaysia (at least that was the agreed on Latin alphabet transcriptions by their division of linguists).

It was time for lunch at their host's house, the main meal of the day in this city. Truthfully, he had gotten tired of much of the food offered in the city after a month here. While he recognized that the meals served at their host's house were of considerably higher quality than in most of Teerm—owing to their host's great wealth—the food was still somewhat bland and the ingredients very repetitive, and he found it lacking in subtlety—both in taste and presentation—, and rarely was there any taste of umami in the food. The meats were also much too overcooked and well-done to his modern Japanese palette, and the concept of raw foods seemed nonexistent. Even fruits were cooked. To Tsubasa, it seemed that the MREs at their ship were almost as palatable as the food served to the wealthy here. Well, at least the produce was almost always fresh in the latter case. Too bad that had not stopped him, and many other Japanese delegation members, from experiencing at least one bout of traveler's diarrhea.

Walking through the gates that lead deeper into the city, he tried to ignore the foul odors of open sewage that always assaulted him. With the poor state of hygiene and sanitation that pervaded the city, the risk of contracting diseases were constantly on the minds of the Japanese expedition. They were lucky as it was that Teerm did not seem to contain any kind of novel, communicable, virulent disease to which their immune systems had no prior exposure to. A reckless gamble by the foreign ministry, some were saying. And their kimonos and yukatas were not particularly good protection against any infections, nor their lack of face masks.

Because of this concern, the epidemiologists, microbiologists, virologists, and general physicians that were part of the expedition had quickly busied themselves with collecting data on the state of disease burden in the city, while also conducting metagenomic surveys. This had included visiting and offering to volunteer in the local medical facilities, which, in their words, seemed reminiscent of the almshouses of the pre-industrial Western world. It seemed to Tsubasa and others that their volunteer work had caused a great deal of controversy among the locals, although they could not be sure because of the language barriers. At least the preliminary findings seemed encouraging; apparently the burden of disease here was remarkably similar to that in pre-industrial Eurasia. Indeed, diseases such as smallpox, measles, tuberculosis, and leprosy seemed rampant, most of which their expedition had either been vaccinated against or had appropriate antibiotics treatment available at their ship.

The locals were not quite as lucky, Tsubasa thought, as he passed by a middle-aged man apparently afflicted with leprosy, dressed in tattered rags that would be little help against the coming winter exposure. The ragged, bony-looking man was sitting at the edge of the cobblestoned street, covered in grime as many people here were, and looking lethargic and despondent. He probably did not have much time left, as he was very much emaciated and avoided by people like the… leper

Tsubasa turned his gaze away, trying to forget about the sight. Even if he were to offer a coin, it was not as if anyone would let the man close enough to sell him things. Since Tsubasa's time here, he had already seen one person collapse and die on the streets from medical complications, and wished to delay seeing the reenactment for as long as possible.

Tsubasa tried to soak in the architectural details of the city to tune out all the visible manifestations of human suffering. The first time he had set his eyes on the city, he had hardly believed his eyes; a genuinely pre-industrial city and society had stood before him. Even now, he found the idea hard to get used to. The experience was surreal, as if he had stepped back in time, to a society untouched by the disrupting forces of modernization.

The houses were timber-framed and looked like something straight out of the European middle ages. The closest modern equivalents from Earth in terms of architectural appearance that Tsubasa could think of were parts of the Grande Île in Strasbourg, and Colmar, and Rothenburg ob der Tauber. All very quaint and aesthetically appealing. The European-looking populace fit right in with their linen and woollen tunics, colorful voluminous robes, doublets and hoses, gowns, kirtles, rags (a signifier of relative material deprivation, he supposed) and other periodically appropriate clothing. Or at least what seemed befitting to a Japanese person from Earth. He supposed even their aversion to cleanliness might be historically appropriate.

The similarities to Earth were so stark, in everything from the topography, to the identical flora and living organisms, and the humans and their earth-like city and society, that this planet could best be described as a parallel earth. Yet the similarities also served to accentuate the differences…

Finally he arrived at their host's house. The man, Jeod, was cleaner than most people here, and did not reek as terribly of sweat. He also had a more well-kept appearance, and looked healthier. Many people in this city looked either malnourished, or pallid, or had wrinkled or sagging skin, or dull or jaundiced eyes, or like they were suffering from scurvy or some other disease that blemished their appearance. But Jeod was wealthy, and wealth seemed to have a very strong correlation with health in this city, based on Tsubasa's heuristic technique of walking around the cobblestone streets.

Jeod greeted him with words whose meaning he still did not fully understand, and Tsubasa answered back with words whose meaning he still was not entirely sure about, yet he knew those were the appropriate words to use in this context. This was one of the main challenges of learning a new language without the use of translation, of textbooks, or of instructors who could already speak both their languages. They were completely in the dark as to the meaning of any spoken words, and even those that they picked up they were unsure of their exact meaning and their Japanese translation. It had also quickly become apparent to Tsubasa that the local language in Teerm was more Indo-European than Turkic or Austronesian, thus his linguistic field of study had proven mostly useless. The same was true of body gestures, which appeared to be strangely similar to those in the West. He himself had aptly picked up the gesture of shrugging, one which he now employed rather frequently in his interactions with Jeod.

Once in the dining room some ten minutes later, he was greeted by Marie-senpai (she had insisted on a first-name basis with everyone in the expedition), and they, along with Jeod and the sour-looking woman in the household whose relationship with Jeod Tsubasa was still not sure about, all sat at the dark wooden table. The main dish for this lunch was venison cooked in wine and accompanying onions and leeks, along with the usual staple white bread and cheese. Tsubasa thought the ratio of meat to vegetables somewhat lopsided, especially compared to taverns and inns which tended to serve more vegetables. In fact, based on the observations of other Japanese people, the more upmarket taverns were less likely to serve vegetables, and in smaller portions. Perhaps the rich here shunned vegetables as food for plebeians, or whatever were the lower social classes here?

The drinks—usually alcoholic—which used to be always served hot, were now offered to him and Marie at room temperature, though from the taste he could tell it had been heated in advance and then allowed to cool. It was probably for the best, if only for hygienic reasons.

Picking up his metal knife and spoon he dug in. Usually the hands were also used for eating, but he could not stomach doing that while here. It was not that he was unused to such customs, especially as some Japanese dishes too were finger foods.

It was because of the lack of toilet paper (their stocks at the ship had only lasted a couple of weeks). As such, he had to make do with using his hands for cleaning his buttocks. And then washing them. Without soap, and with no running tap water, meaning the water itself turned filthy as he washed his hands in it in the basin, undoing some of his efforts.

Not that they did not have soap and other sanitizers on their ship, but it was rationed for the myopic and hyperopic members, who needed it to clean their contact lenses, and for medical and scientific uses. And though it had never been openly acknowledged, Tsubasa suspected that the organizers had miscalculated the amount of soap during the provisioning. Probably whatever accounting software the foreign ministry were using had glitched out, or maybe the operating system itself. The current transition within the foreign ministry from Windows and Mac and all other non-Japanese software systems to often rushedly designed Japanese ones was a miserable ordeal for everyone involved. But it had to be done, the bureaucrats insisted, because of licensing issues...

Tsubasa sighed to himself, trying to be cognizant of the opportunity he had been given. Here he sat, in the home of a person from another world. Most members of the expedition envied him and Marie, as they were of the few ones who had the opportunity to live in the same house as locals, and study their language and culture up close. For this, Tsubasa was grateful to Jeod, though he found those sentiments hard to communicate (and probably would still have even if they were speaking in Japanese). He did regularly offer payments to Jeod in silver coins, something the latter man had initially rejected but increasingly grown receptive to.

He listened to Marie and Jeod chat about this and that, though it seemed to him that Jeod would sometimes try to shift the topic of discussion to Japan, or specifically to their "king" Naruhito, and questions about his "rule". Jeod's curiosity about Naruhito had apparently been piqued ever since Tsubasa had mentioned him almost two weeks ago. Hopeless as Tsubasa was in the local language, he let Marie handle the discussion. After all, she was the one who was one of Japan's most gifted polyglots, with doctoral degrees in English philology and German ethnolinguistics, as well as her extracurricular interests in various North Germanic languages. The fact that the local language seemed to have marked similarities with older North Germanic languages (Rikesens, as she had pointed out, meant "kingdom" or "empire" in older Scandinavian languages) made her even more suited to the task.

After a relatively quick exchange that Tsubasa was unable to follow, Marie turned to him. "I tried to ask Jeod about the different languages spoken in Rikesens. Maybe I misunderstood him completely, but I think he says that everyone in Rikesens speaks the same language."

"Really?" said Tsubasa, genuinely surprised. "The linguistic diversity should be greater than that, over such large geographic distances and with pre-industrial communications."

"Yeah, I'm surprised as well. Maybe I misunderstood and he was talking about the lingua franca. I will try asking again, okay, Tsubasa-kun?"

And Marie launched into another discussion with Jeod, speaking too quickly for Tsubasa to keep up, but still slower than a local. Marie seemed surprised by some of Jeod's answers, and she frowned slightly as she again turned to Tsubasa. "I think Jeod says that all humans in Ala-Gaysia speak the same language, but the elves, dwarves, and Urgals each speak different languages. Or maybe I'm just messing up the translation."

Tsubasa thought on the answer. "It would make sense if these different… species were completely isolated from each other." He was not sure if they were actually species, but found no better term to use.

"It does seem a bit convenient. But if… oh, I'm so curious about these languages that other species speak! Maybe the sounds they produce are completely different from those of humans, resulting in entirely different phonology than what we are used to? What do you think, Tsubasa-kun?"

"Maybe… I don't know. Are there any elves or dwarves in Rikesens? If not, that would imply low levels of interspecies exposure, raising the possibility of completely isolated languages."

"I'll ask Jeod," said Marie.

After several minutes of discussions with Jeod, she said to Tsubasa: "Jeod doesn't seem to think there are any elves or dwarves in Rikesens. He said they have their own countries. He wasn't sure about the Urgals. And if I'm not mistaken, he said that the elves and the dwarves each have one and only one country."

"Country borders completely delineated along species lines," muttered Tsubasa. "That's… nation and species would be constantly conflated with each other. Imagine the role of... species identity in international relations in this world."

"I agree with you," said Marie. "But remember, this is just what Jeod said, and his words could be reflected by a human world view… what I'm trying to say is, maybe human biases cause us to ignore heterogeneities in different species and lump them all together. Basically the outgroup homogeneity effect. If so, maybe the elves do have several countries, but the humans here lump them all together, see them all as the same. Like how some people see Africa as one country or a homogenous place."

Tsubasa stared at the goblet of wine in front of him. "Do elves and dwarves actually exist endogenously?" he asked slowly. "Or are these groupings only human concepts?"

Marie looked at him quizzically for a moment. "You mean… that those groupings are human concepts? And those being grouped don't identify with them?"

"The same way the Europeans created the groupings 'Asian' and 'African'," explained Tsubasa. "The peoples in these groupings originally weren't aware that they were being grouped in the first place, and certainly didn't identify with such exogenous concepts. Certainly us Japanese weren't aware of the concept of Asia until the 1860s, when we were introduced to the concept by the West. As long as 'elves' and 'dwarves' don't conform to the scientific definition of species, it's possible that they are only arbitrary human-centric constructs, and the… ones being grouped don't identify with, or are aware of, these groupings; just like how Western groupings that encompass us are incongruous with how we view ourselves. All our sources on social and political divisions here are so far colored by a human, or Rikesens conception of the world. It also begs the question whether Ala-Gaysia should actually be considered to exist as a subcontinent, or just a Rikesens arbitrary division of a larger continent.

In short, maybe 'elves' or 'dwarves' actually constitute many groups that have nothing in common, and no common identity?"

Tsubasa stopped himself, wondering if he had elaborated for too long. He was not used to speaking so many words at once. Or at all, really.

But Marie seemed to consider his words seriously. "That's a very interesting thought, Tsubasa-kun." she finally said. "We should mention your idea to the others and encourage them to include it in our next report to Kasumigaseki. But I'm not sure what else to call them until we manage to get more information."

"The mistake might be in perceiving these groupings to exist in the first place," answered Tsubasa.

"Oh, Tsubasa-kun, you are destroying the hopes of all fantasy fans back home," joked Marie.

Tsubasa shrugged and took another sip of the wine, which, like all alcoholic drinks here, tasted rather terrible. Or maybe the standards for what constituted a "good" drink was very different here, compared to developed countries on Earth. He saw Jeod looking at them with a curious expression, and considered asking the man what he thought of them speaking privately in their own language, but gave up when he could not think of the appropriate words to phrase such a question.

"... more… your language," Tsubasa was able to catch Jeod saying to him, or at least he thought so. Tsubasa was not sure what to make of it, and responded to Jeod: "Soon," or at least that was what he thought the word meant.

"He wants to know more about our language, I think he said," Marie clarified.

"He's actually interested in Japanese? How unusual." Back on Earth, Japanese was an unpopular language choice for language learners. Despite Japan being the second largest developed economy, it was by far the least studied language among those spoken in the G7.

"Well, he does have a fairly large collection of books in a city where most are illiterate, so I suppose he might be a scholar, or their equivalent of a scholar," remarked Marie. "Lately he has been so curious about our country's governance model, though understandably approaching the topic from a rather different frame of reference. Do you think I should tell him about our prime minister, and that Japan's government does not revolve around the emperor?"

"And confuse him once our entire government and ministers resign because of the nuclear bombs scandal?" questioned Tsubasa.

"You are right, now is not the best time. But I do feel bad about indirectly misleading him. I'll tell him more once the constitutional crisis settles, and we have become more fluent in their language." They still did not have a name for the language.

"It's your choice… Marie-senpai." Having finished his meal, he rose from his seat and thanked Jeod for the food with what he thought were the appropriate words. Then he fetched for his Kate-bukuro, a bag from the Sengoku period, and made to leave. On his way out of the dinner room, his gaze flicked to the parchment map at an outer desk table, then to the outlines of mountains...

"Oh, are you going to the ship?" asked Marie. "If so, I'll come with you."

"Oh… yeah," mustered Tsubasa.

And so they started walking their way through the rows of timber-framed houses to where the docks were. Quite a few paused to give them a glance, although Tsubasa felt like the attention they gained had lessened somewhat. Perhaps the locals were becoming somewhat used to their presence?

"Don't you think they are rather tall?" Marie suddenly asked. "I think the average male height before the industrial revolution was around 160 cm. But the men here must be closer to 170. They are as tall as people in Japan."

"I think 160 cm was the global average," said Tsubasa. "But people in Europe, or northern Europe, were a lot taller than those elsewhere, even before the industrial revolution. And people in that region were actually a lot shorter just before the industrial revolution than several hundred years before that, I think. So 170 cm is not unheard of, historically on Earth."

They passed through the gates into the docks and walked the plankings onto the red seal ship. The entry to the ship was constantly watched by a trio of Japanese officers to make sure no locals would be able to board, except at night when the ship sailed out a few hundred meters. All to comply with the New World Technology Outflow Prevention Act, as there were a lot of devices, tools, and machines aboard that contained "sensitive" technologies.

They climbed the stairs to the lower deck, where the entire base of operations for their expedition was located. A clock on the wall indicated the time was about a quarter past one, but the time displayed was the Japan Standard Time (which technically did not exist anymore, but was still used for convenience), and they were currently in a different time zone where the time was more than one hour ahead. Numerous electronic equipment were present, including a few laptops which had been installed with various academic and scientific resources, and were connected to certain radiotelegraphy networks for communication with various ministries and agencies, as well as getting access to news from back home. The ship's battery storage power station served as a main source of electricity.

"Ah, Tsubasa-san, Marie-san. Welcome back," said Katsuo, the director-general of their expedition.

"Buchou." Tsubasa gave a small bow. He then took a seat at the half-occupied conference table, observing and listening to the various discussions, tasks, and other works performed by various divisions of the expedition.

"... _number of protesters are rising in Nagoya and Kobe, joining the demands made by their counterparts in Tokyo and Osaka,"_ announced the battery operated radio. " _And in another blow to Takahashi, a poll just released today by the NHK shows that public approval for Takahashi's Cabinet has plummeted to 37 percent, from 68 percent a month ago. According to the poll, 85 percent of respondents think the cabinet has handled the nuclear bombs scandal poorly. 74 percent support the Supreme Court's judicial review of the cabinet..."_

Tsubasa glanced at the more than a dozen linguists, now joined by Marie, who were busying themselves with transcribing and transliterating words they had come across into the Latin alphabet, kana, and even Cyrillic, while debating the meanings of various words. Last Tsubasa had checked, their compiled lexicon had contained more than two thousand "words", though a few were likely duplicates or different grammatical forms of the same word. A few other linguists were reviewing and comparing notes on what they had gathered about the grammatical structure of the local language.

"... really reminds me of Old Norse, or some Scandinavian language before the early modern period," someone remarked. "Regrettably, I know almost nothing about these languages."

"As far as I know, no one in Japan is really familiar with these languages," someone else replied. "And all internet resources on Old Norse or old Scandinavian languages were hosted outside Japan, so those are forever gone. Still, the fact they speak a language with such similarities to some languages on Earth is more than we could have hoped for."

"Also rather uncanny," someone remarked.

At that point someone took a seat beside Tsubasa. The man, who appeared to be in his late twenties, then promptly started addressing him: "You are Tsubasa-san, correct? The one who lives with locals?"

"Yes."

"And what's your surname?"

Tsubasa did not answer him.

"Very well," conceded the man. "I'm Kazuhiro from the economic history and political science division, and my research focus is on quantitative economic history. How about you?" It was left unsaid that Kazuhiro had not provided his surname either.

"Austronesian linguistics," said Tsubasa. Kazuhiro waited for him to elaborate, which he did not.

"Ah, I see," Kazuhiro finally said. "Anyway, are the beds or mattresses out there as bad as at the inns?"

"... A bit rough," admitted Tsubasa. "Not as soft and smooth as back home."

"Even though your hosts are comparatively very wealthy, huh. Well, that's still much better than what I and many others have experienced. Usually the inns arrange for several strangers to sleep in the same bed or mattress, but since most locals don't want anything to do with us, we often get our own rooms so long as we pay extra—by the way," Kazuhiro leaned closer, "your hosts did not try get you to sleep together with Marie-san, eh?"

"No," said Tsubasa, averting his gaze. He suddenly found an impulse to twiddle with his fingers under the table, which he did.

"I can't decide whether you are lucky or unlucky," said an amused Kazuhiro. "Anyway, those mattresses… are a real pain! Linen sheets, and I believe the mattresses are filled with grass. Sometimes wool, if you are lucky. Better just sleep on the ship."

"I suppose."

"But I'm curious about your stay at… what are their names?"

"Jeod-san and Helen-san," replied Tsubasa.

"Now those sound like European names to me," pondered Kazuhiro. "Any interesting manufactures in their home? I want anything that can help us gauge their level of technological advancement."

Instead of deliberating, Tsubasa gave an answer that had been on his mind for a while: "Jeod-san has a rapier."

"A what?!" Kazuhiro's eyes widened. "But that's… 16th century European technology! And apparently they don't even have paper and gunpowder, advances that occurred in Europe several centuries earlier."

Tsubasa shrugged, by now rather used to this new body gesture. "So?" he asked. "Their plate armor is also from the 16th century."

"Yes, Maximilian armor, I know," said Kazuhiro. He sighed. "This is odd."

"So you are still trying to prove this is medieval Europe, Kazuhiro-san?"

Both Tsubasa and Kazuhiro turned to the new voice, which turned out to be another man standing not too far from them.

"The similarities to late-medieval Europe are striking," defended Kazuhiro.

"Only superficially," retorted the man. "Again, this country is by definition not medieval because 'medieval' in this context is a historical stage that is specific to the European historical timeline. It is not a universal periodization model and doesn't make sense when applied to non-European societies. Why, then, should we apply a historical period that is specific to the European chronology when analyzing this alien world? I don't see you drawing parallels to Chinese or Indian historical stages, say the Song Dynasty or the Delhi Sultanate, even though they too are pre-early modern societies like medieval Europe. The historical timeline here is distinct, not European, which is why, as you have noted, they have armor technology comparable to the European Renaissance, but no papermaking technology. The mix of technology and chronology of technological and scientific advancements here will differ from any particular European time period, just like it would from China and India of the past. So we should stop expecting this country to be a certain way just because that's how medieval Europe was, because having preconceived ideas like that will cause us to overlook things and make incorrect assumptions."

"I understand your point, Ryogi-san," said Kazuhiro, "but in my opinion the similarities between this country and medieval Europe are not merely superficial. They exist on the most fundamental level of what makes a pre-industrial society."

"Which is?"

"Agriculture," Kazuhiro said dramatically. "In societies that have undergone the Neolithic Revolution but not yet the first industrial revolution, agriculture makes up almost the entire share of economic and labor activity, usually above eighty percent, except for a few states in early modern Europe where the share was lower. Considering this, one can say that much of pre-industrial society therefore revolves around agriculture. Economic structures, divisions of labor, social institutions, hierarchy structures, state structures, social indicators such as population density and urbanization, and so on, are to large extents affected by a society's underlying agricultural structure. Before the first industrial revolution, with rare exceptions, agriculture was the foundation of society."

"I think I know where you are going with your deterministic talk," admitted Ryogi. "But go on."

"Before the early modern period, Europe had a unique way of organizing agriculture that wasn't observed anywhere else. They combined crop farming and livestock farming, and notably, the staple crops were wheat, not rice or maize. Numerous other pre-early modern societies had one or the other, but never both - at least not on that scale. Except for here, in Ala-Gaysia. Like late-medieval Europe, agriculture here is mixed between crop and livestock, and the staple crop also appears to be wheat. And so, like medieval Europe, population density here is lower than in China or India or Japan at comparable time periods, and many social institutions appear to be similar. Given that we have established the foundational role of agriculture on pre-industrial societies as a whole, it follows that late-medieval Europe and Ala-Gaysia, with their shared agricultural structure, would be similar on a fundamental level!" Kazuhiro finished, taking a breath.

"There are potatoes here," Tsubasa deadpanned.

Kazuhiro blinked, at a loss for words "... what?," he murmured. He seemed utterly lost, his earlier confidence gone. "I… why didn't anyone tell me? And it wasn't mentioned in any reports… because everyone's attention and focus has been on the issue of magic and mind control, I guess."

"You should have eaten out at the local restaurants, or taverns, more often, Kazuhiro-san," said Ryogi. "Then you wouldn't have spent so much time developing your far-fetched theory, only to have it dismantled by the potato. And about the population density, the evidence is growing that they are quite far below their Malthusian limits. Although… I'll admit that a few of your points have merits. Agriculture does play a large role in how societies developed, historically. Still, an overly simplistic and reductionist theory. No offense, Kazuhiro-san." And Ryogi walked away.

"But why is not the potato served everywhere, if the only competing crop is wheat?" Kazuhiro said quietly. "Unless I was unlucky to miss it…" He sighed. "I suppose I haven't been eating out as much as I should," he said to Tsubasa. "It's just that… the food here is somewhat bad. And some locals don't appreciate us being there."

"Yeah," said Tsubasa. "I've seen it too," he felt himself saying without intending to. He knew he should not, but somehow another person confessing to being bothered by the negative sentiments of some locals made him feel better about himself. And Kazuhiro looked like a confident person, not like himself. So maybe it was okay for Tsubasa to also feel slightly bothered?

Just slightly.

"And also because I don't want to have people messing inside my head." Kazuhiro shook his head. "I still find that hard to believe. I hope Tokyo hurries up and finishes the development of those psychic jammers. Hopefully they will be ready by the time of our first resupply at sea, in eight weeks."

Psychic jammers. Ever since the incident with the sea monster, the Ministry of Defense had been trying to develop countermeasures, specifically devices that could interfere with the particular electromagnetic spectrum that induced mind reading and mind control, much like how radar jamming interfered with certain radio waves. Such devices would be able to jam the relevant electromagnetic waves within a certain range when activated, thereby protecting people within that area from mind reading and mind control. Their development had very recently been significantly accelerated, now that the government was aware of the possibility of mind readers and mind controllers among humans. However…

"I'm surprised this expedition hasn't been withdrawn," voiced Tsubasa.

"It probably would have been, if not for the nuclear bombs scandal," said Kazuhiro. "The cabinet is too busy falling apart to really care about anything else, I think. And given how heavily scrutinized they are right now in the media, if they were to withdraw this expedition, there would be questions, and Takahashi would have no choice but to admit the existence of magic and human mind controllers, even though that is still classified information.

But you are right, this is insanely risky. It takes only one person, and so many secrets about Japan would be leaked. They could be inside our heads now, and we probably wouldn't know."

They were quiet for a while. Tsubasa was trying to think of something to respond with when Marie appeared at their table. "Hello, Tsubasa-san, Kazuhiro-san."

"Marie-senpai," Tsubasa acknowledged, while Kazuhiro also returned the greeting.

"JAXA just released a tentative year-round temperature estimate of Teerm, month by month," said Marie. She made a face. "By October it will be too cold for us to bathe regularly. Then from November to March there will be no chances for us to at all. On the bright side, winter should not be that bad, as this city has tentatively been classified as Cfb on Köppen."

"What a pain," muttered Kazuhiro. "Even now I can only change my clothes twice a week at most."

"The locals don't seem to mind," Tsubasa noted.

"That's because they believe bathing to be dangerous," explained Kazuhiro. "At least that's what our volunteers at the almshouses have told me. That the locals, including their physicians, think bathing spreads disease."

Marie's eyes went wide. "Really?" she asked. "Was that belief a thing in the past, on Earth?"

"In parts of Europe, yes. But… not during the medieval period." Kazuhiro reluctantly admitted, probably aware he was undermining his earlier theory. "In fact bathing was relatively common in that period. Fear of bathing in Europe started with the European Renaissance, and continued well into the 19th century. Largely because of a theory of disease transmission called 'miasma theory', which held that diseases spread by foul smells called 'miasma' and that bathing led to the opening of skin pores, allowing miasma to seep through. Many also believed that having a layer of dirt further protected you from the miasma. It wasn't until this theory was displaced by modern germ theory that bathing came to be seen as a healthy practise there. Europeans can be quite odd."

Marie looked slightly disturbed by the explanation. "We should try to tell them that bathing is safe, and good for their health," said Marie.

Tsubasa shrugged. "If we do that, the bathhouse will start to suffer from under capacity, and we won't be able to bathe."

Marie glared at him while Kazuhiro snickered. "Good one," he said. "Besides, it's not like they would believe you, even if you could articulate that in their language. I mean, our diplomatic division _still_ hasn't been able to convey our regrets at the territorial violations into their waters and their lands, which is our main diplomatic objective. Nevermind talks about compensation! And have you heard about the Chongryon association?"

"Yes," said Marie. "Have you, Tsubasa-san?" she asked when he did not respond.

"No," he said a bit quietly.

"They are saying that Japan should be expelled from the UN because of our 'blatant violation' of Article 2 of the Charter, and are trying to build coalitions with other embassies. We did break international law, so I guess it makes sense." Marie sighed. "I didn't think this expedition would be so controversial."

"The North Koreans are just trying to make a fuss, like always," said Kazuhiro. "Good luck taking your case to the International Court of Justice. I for one am glad that they are no longer our dear neighbors. It's ironic that we are starting nuclear weapons development just when we no longer need them."

Tsubasa resisted shifting uneasily. Marie too seemed a little bothered by Kazuhiro's bluntness at such controversial topics, for she quickly redirected the topic: "Weren't you part of the mission that entered the castle, Kazuhiro-san?"

"Yes, I was an attaché whose job was to gather data on material conditions, and to help provide historical contexts to our officers. Even before we had entered the castle, we could smell the smoke. Just why do they light torches indoors? It's like a bad movie."

"That must have been hard on you all," said Marie sympathetically.

"The castle itself was a disappointment," continued Kazuhiro. "The interior was mainly hunks of gray rock, and nothing like the ones from medieval France and England, which tend to be colorful and lavishly decorated. The hallways also completely lacked windows and arches for some reason, making it dark inside—but even then torches make absolutely no sense. Very different from European castle design, I'll have to admit," he admitted.

"Ah, okay," said Marie. "But I think we shouldn't judge their aesthetics standards too hard, just because it's different from ours."

"Yeah, yeah," said Kazuhiro. "The music was fascinating though, what I imagine 15th century compositions from Western Europe to be like. And the food… contained no potatoes." He grimaced.

Tsubasa's mouth twitched slightly, while Marie appeared confused.

"Anyway, we couldn't speak a smack of their language back then, and so couldn't express our regrets at our violation of their territorial sovereignty, or offer compensation," Kazuhiro said. "After a few days, we were dismissed from the castle, because we had no more gifts to offer, or that's how our diplomats understood it. And now we aren't allowed into the castle gates or the surrounding keep, so the success of our diplomatic objective is in doubt. Well, maybe Westphalian principles don't mean much to them. As some are saying, states in this world could be operating under entirely different systems of international relations, as was the case before the early modern period... Still, we have failed to establish any sort of permanent diplomatic relations whatsoever, and it seems our diplomats aren't even being recognized as diplomats," finished Kazuhiro.

"Yeah, that's really unfortunate," said Marie. "We violated their sovereign rights, and can't even apologize for it."

"I wonder if we will ever reach an international understanding on where to draw the international date line in our lifetime?" Kazuhiro lamented. "Unless it is drawn on the longitudes between us and Ala-Gaysia, we can't seriously call ourselves the Origin of the Sun. The very name of our country will be a misnomer."

"Why did you phrase our country's name to them in Indo-European languages?" Tsubasa suddenly asked.

"Hey, I wasn't the one who did it!" protested Kazuhiro. He continued: "Some of the diplomats are senior, and insist on following protocol to the letter. And the protocol has long been that the English name of our country should be used in international situations, when not speaking in our language or the language of the other party, and our senior diplomats of course followed that literally."

"..."

"Oh, poor Jeod, he must be so confused. Should we tell him to start calling our country by its English name?"

"... _No_ , Marie-senpai."

* * *

_Reiwa 2 September 9_

"You can't just resign!"

Minato sighed resignedly. "Why not?"

Nakano looked like he wanted to tear his hair out. He continued to stand in Minato's office, refusing to take the offered seat. "There is no one else!" he exclaimed.

Nakano paused, taking a breath. Their gazes met, and underneath Nakano's severe expression Minato saw the deep exhaustion, the product of the taxing trials their cabinet officials had all been through the past month. Well, except for the Minister of State for the Tokyo Olympic and Paralympic Games, who was enjoying early retirement.

Minato knew that his decision was unpopular with the other cabinet ministers, especially Nakano. Were they upset that he was forcing the decision onto them? While it was left unsaid, they were all expected to follow him by resigning en masse. Such was the tradition.

"Japan should not have survived," Nakano suddenly said. "Our country should not have been able to pull through this earth-shattering event. But it did. Because of you, Minato."

Minato, who had been prepared for various arguments, had nothing to say.

"Who was it that immediately came up with the idea to circumvent the entire legislative apparatus by just making up a deal with the Bank of Japan, having them take over public funding for the overseas projects and everything else that was expedient? And who decided to stop enforcing eighty percent of regulatory and bureaucratic procedures in many areas, and told the corporate sector to do the same, actually allowing the overseas projects to take place at all?

"Can you imagine," continued Nakano, "if Japan was still governed by the Abe Cabinet? Or any other cabinet filled with senior LDP officials? How would they have dealt with 2020?"

Minato saw the image playing out in his head, of Abe-shushou sitting in meetings with the other cabinet ministers and senior officials, all indecisive and confused and with no protocols…

"You already know how it would have gone," said Nakano. "They would have deliberated for a month, and maybe at the end of that they might have introduced their first half-baked measures if we were lucky, or maybe they would have just been able to decide to set up a committee for deciding which measures to consider to implement. All the while, Japan would have slowly collapsed around them."

"It's not that bad," Minato tried to protest. "And in any case, the worst of the transfer crisis is already over. We just have to follow the currently established protocols."

"Which you set up!" retorted Nakano.

Minato shook his head. "Not relevant," he said. With finality, he announced: "I have just presided over the largest incident of political oversight and negligence in the history of Japanese democracy. I am responsible for a violation of the constitution of the highest order. I will take the responsibility required of me and hand over the cabinet to those more deserving of it."

An impassive expression came over Nakano's face. After a moment of tense silence, he said: "You don't understand the meaning of responsibility, Takahashi-san." Then he bowed and left the office.

Nakano's last words continued to echo in Minato's head. He had always been closer to Nakano than to the other cabinet ministers. Nakano was the closest he had to a confidante in the Kantei.

Minato rose from his chair. He needed to get out.

* * *

The rhythmic clickety clack was accompanied by small jolts as the train wheels passed through the rail joints. With his wider face mask covering more than half of his face, Minato seemed to have been able to avoid the detection of the few other passengers aboard the train car, late as it was on this weekend and with the local authorities having recommended people to stay at home to stem the pandemic. It was probably for the best, with how he had become perhaps the most disgraced face in Japan, because of his failings.

As the train stopped at the next in a series of stations, Minato decided to step off on a whim. He had no particular destination in mind, except to be away from the Kantei.

Passing through the dense and illuminated neighborhoods and districts of Toshima, it occurred to him how cut-off he had become from normal people, especially of late. He governed the country, but would seldom make time to observe at large the _people_ under his governance. How were they coping with the transfer? With the pandemic? Those very events had caused him to be even more holed up in his residence, even as it had become more pertinent to observe the experiences of the common people.

He may not remain prime minister for much longer, but he still felt the need to make up for his inadequacies. And maybe he was a little hungry.

So he entered a local izakaya.

He was greeted by the customary "irasshaimase" and advised—by signs—to the hand sanitizers. Indeed, the signs listed various "recommendations" to observe; such as keeping to the two meter rule; sitting next to each other rather than opposite from; wearing masks; and to avoid talking and not talk loudly in order to minimize droplet transmission. Except for a few other anti-pandemic measures, the locale looked like a typical izakaya.

Looking at the menu sign, he saw that the prices on many items had skyrocketed, as a result of supply shortages. Hopefully that would resolve itself soon, as commodity imports from Shin Minami started to ramp up. As he took a seat that faced opposite to the bar, he overheard a few conversations:

"—really want to visit Teerm at some point, it's like the fairy tales. And I heard there's a real sense of community there unlike here, or like here in the past."

"With our government's pace, we'll probably have a visa travel agreement already by 2100. Can't wait!"

"Aren't you a little optimistic, Itsuki? Passports need to be registered by the International Civil Aviation Organization, in Canada. No passports, no visa travel. In other words, it will never happen!"

"Ugh... By the way, you guys heard about that northeastern island?"

"Yeah, they said on the news that the buildings were as large as… what's the largest building on Earth?"

"I think it's the Boeing Everett Factory."

"Right. The buildings and ruins are as large as that, but probably taller."

"What the heck?! That large? That's unbelievable!"

"And that's not the only strange thing about that island. There are speculations that the white outlines… are skeletal remains."

?! Everyone was deathly quiet for a moment, even the chefs who had stopped dead in their cooking.

"Just where did you hear that, Kumiko-san?" someone asked quietly.

"Just one hour ago, on Yomiuri's website," answered Kumiko. "It wasn't on the front page."

"Kami," someone said. "It's Godzilla!"

"It's just speculation. No way that's a living organism - or was. Organisms don't grow that large."

"Really? They said the same about the sea monster, and about Godzilla in _Shin Godzilla_."

"Also, why would the buildings be that large. And why is it all abandoned?" wondered Kumiko.

"Monuments like the pyramids?"

"Beats me," someone else said. "This world is so strange. First sea monsters and psychic attacks and city-sized whirlpools, then dwarves and elves and minotaurs, and now abandoned ruins the size of Boeing Everett. And the remains of Godzilla! Next they'll be announcing the existence of magic."

 _If only you knew,_ Minato thought.

Then a waitress approached his table. "What would y—T-Takashi-shushou!" she stammered.

Suddenly everyone stopped whatever they were conversing about and turned their eyes on him.

"Good evening," said Minato to the locale. Then he turned to the nervous waitress and ordered some yakitori and salted cabbage, along with edamame.

For a while, nothing could be heard but the sound of cooking. Minato found himself wondering if he was really that intimidating. Perhaps he could say something to ease—

"I did not know that… shushou liked salted cabbage."

Minato glanced at the middle-aged man who had spoken to him. "I do," answered Minato, with a small smile that would not pass through his face mask. "I eat a lot of tsukemono. And please, just Takahashi-san is enough."

Then the woman Kumiko asked: "Takahashi-san, I was wondering about the island of…"

"Vroengard," someone else interjected.

"Vroengard," Kumiko continued. "Are those white outlines there really skeletal remains?"

"The satellite images are quite low resolution, so it's hard to tell. But rest assured," Minato added, "it isn't Godzilla"—a few chucked—"If those are remains, it is not of a bipedal organism. The morphologies do not match that."

"Will you be sending an expedition there?" someone asked.

Minato hesitated. "We have already been pushing the boundaries of the international law treaties that we have signed, and expeditions such as the one to Ala-Gaysia are technically direct violations of those laws, which I'm sure everyone knows at this point. That said, it is for my successor to decide."

"Successor?" Kumiko asked bemused. "But the next election isn't until two years."

"Wait!" someone exclaimed. "You aren't going to resign, are you, Takahashi-san?"

 _Has our cabinet really been that nontransparent in communicating our intentions?_ Minato asked himself. "Of course I will resign," clarified Minato.

"What?!

"No!"

Surprised by the objections, Minato continued: "Because of my negligence, our country has found itself in an unprecedented post-war constitutional crisis, and I must therefore take responsibility—"

"But we will freeze to death!" someone uttered.

So unexpected was the remark, that Minato stopped himself short.

The man called Itsuki chimed in: "My parents live in a building with poor insulation. We know that the energy situation is still very poor, and that this winter will be the coldest in more than one hundred years because of less CO2 or whatever. If you resign, they might actually freeze to death, and not just my parents."

"Because all prospective candidates want to completely abolish nuclear power," explained Kumiko. "This… scandal has turned the discourse against all sorts of nuclear issues. It's all conflated with nuclear weapons."

Minato wanted to assure them that it would not come to that, that any incoming officials would be pragmatic enough to realize the non-viability of such a drastic move…

But would they, really? Ever since the nuclear bombs scandal, the opposition members and many from his own party had flirted with unrealistic policy positions, and a complete and immediate ban on nuclear power had been one of the most oft-mentioned proposals.

At that moment, he realized he no longer had a confident grasp of the unfolding political climate and political developments. After all, the transfer itself had upended traditional modes of politics and governance. His own cabinet had embraced an unorthodox style of governance. How could he confidently predict any successor to act within the confines of traditional political norms, and not do something drastic and inadvisable? He could not.

"Takahashi-san?"

Despite him having said that the worst of the transfer crisis was behind them, the thought seemed increasingly hollow, even to himself. And with how easy his doubts on this had fallen into place, and how little resistance they met, he knew that deep down, he had known this all along. He had known about the potential risks of his resignation, and chosen to suppress those, in order to be able to go through with the resignation with his conscience intact.

Maybe one option was for only him to resign, and for the rest of his cabinet to remain? But that was such a lose-lose compromise. There were no advantages to such—

"I'm sorry, Takahashi-san, but could I offer my views?"

Minato stopped his introspection. "Yes, what's your name?"

"Shunsuke, Takahashi-san."

"And what's your views on this, Shunsuke-san?"

"I think I speak for many of us," he began a little nervously, but his resolve seemed to strengthen with the encouraging looks he received, "when I say that we are more concerned with the immediate impacts on our lives, than abstract legal principles. Perhaps you did, or rather your minister, did violate the constitution… but how's that important when we can barely make it through this winter? You politicians care so much about bureaucracy and all that we find hard to relate to, while we wonder what you will actually do to help us voters." Several others voiced their agreements.

"Also," said Itsuki, "those nuclear weapons aren't technically weapons, right? They are meant to be tools of the JAXA to intercept asteroids. If they aren't weapons, the constitution hasn't been violated."

Of course Minato had considered that, but he was still busy contemplating Shunsuke's commentary to give a better response than "perhaps".

Perhaps...

Then one of his food orders arrived, and he found himself staring at the pieces of skewered meat. Would his successor be able to ensure the continuing supply of foodstuff? Much hinged on the supply system, including the regulatory framework, and the carefully calibrated rationing regime, that his cabinet had set up in place. These delicate systems would be so easy to disrupt with ill-thought-out policy measures. Was it really _responsible_ of him to place the well-being of his fellow citizens at such risks?

As if to spell out his uncertainties, Kumiko said: "Will the food still be there after you've resigned, Takahashi-san? It seemed like a miracle that your government managed to solve that in the first place."

"I… it will," Minato struggled to say.

"But how can you what will happen after you resign—"

"I won't," Minato blurted out before he could stop himself. He saw their eyes widen at his statement.

Well, it was too late to back down now, so he might as well double down. "I won't resign," he said, slowly coming around to his own words. "If by the next general elections of Reiwa 4 you decide to vote us out, so be it, but until then, I will do my best to remain in office."

* * *

_The 2nd day of the 12th month, 7999 A.C._

Jeod sat by the table, forcing himself to look at the two foreigners even though he would prefer to look elsewhere. A strained atmosphere hung in the air.

"I'm sorry," said Jeod. "The attacks are wrong and should not have happened." He wished he could have used more expressive language, but what sense was that if they did not understand?

To his surprise, Marie merely smiled and said: "Is okay. Sometimes happens. Is not your fault, Jeod."

So they felt no ill will towards him, despite what his compatriots were doing?

"Will be more careful," Marie continued. "We, Nihonjin will not leave our rooms in evening. Or our ship. It's fine."

In the last month, there had been several spate of violent attacks toward the Nihonjin. The latest one had been rather grievous: Scores of drunken men had shouted at the Nihonjin, demanding that they praise the king and acknowledge the superiority of the Empire to their barbarian periphery, and then engaged in a one-sided altercation of kicks and punches. By the time the drunkards had left, the four Nihonjin could barely still walk, and one had to be carried back to their ship. It had happened late in the evening.

At least this was the version of the story he had heard from other merchants.

Violent incidents such as these were of course common occurrences in Teirm—as in other cities—, and most everyday people were attacked, or ruckuses happened.

But apart from the fact that these foreigners had never acted in an unruly way, never caused any trouble in Teirm, these people were, to his knowledge, emissaries and envoys. And envoys ought to be bestowed certain courtesies! Yet no one else seemed to share his views. They had all swallowed Galbatorix's narrative of the Empire and Surda as the only centers of human civilization, and everything else as beneath them, unworthy of acknowledgement, and deserving of ridicule and disdain.

But Jeod did see them as envoys, and the incidents as serious slights toward their country by the people of the Empire, and Jeod was an Imperial himself. He was burning with shame. If Marie and Tsubasa started to begrudge him, that was well within their rights.

Which made Marie's response all the more perplexing. The fact that they were so easy to accept these sorts of attacks… maybe Nihon was a country where such acts of violence were so common, no one raised an eyebrow at them? He had heard that island societies could be rather lawless.

Or maybe they were just exceptionally lenient and forgiving. That certainly did not contradict his own impressions of them.

He heard Tsubasa mumbling something to Marie, who answered back. He heard her say Tsubasa's name, accompanied by another word that sounded like "kuhn", which she always added to the name, it seemed. And on the rare occasion that Tsubasa uttered her name, it too was unremittingly followed by another, specific word. Were those honorifics? If so, it seemed similar to what the elves practised.

Then Tsubasa asked: "How many dead attacks? In Teirm in one year?" Over the past three months, the young man's command over the common language had truly grown. Of course, he was still leagues behind Marie, who advanced at a mind-boggling pace.

"Dead attacks?" repeated Jeod. "Do you mean attacks on the dead, like desecration?

"Desecration is?"

Jeod tried to explain the grave matter, but Marie quickly shook her head. "No," she said. "Attack person… until dead," she clarified, grimacing.

"You mean attacks that… you mean murders?" Jeod said in realization.

"What are murders?"

Jeod spent half a minute explaining the macabre act, using a combination of words and body expressions.

"Yes, murders," Marie confirmed once he was done. "Tsubasa is asking, how many happen? In Teirm every year?"

"In one year… I'd say maybe ten murders occur in one year, or perhaps slightly more than that," answered Jeod.

Both their eyes widened slightly at his response. But why? Teirm was an average city in terms of safety. But maybe not from their perspective, Jeod realized. Being an island, they would not have a city close in size to Teirm, if they had one at all. "There is a city in Nihon, right?" asked Jeod. Perhaps "town" would have been a better word to use, if they had known the word. Islands did not ordinarily have actual cities, but one town or two they might have.

Marie nodded in response to his question. Perhaps she had interpreted his question as including towns?

"What's the name of that city?" pressed Jeod, eager for a chance to learn more about their country. These past three months he had mostly refrained from asking more questions about them, instead focusing on teaching them the common language. It would make his questioning sessions much easier in the long run. Marie had informed him that they would be staying for at least a year, so he would have plenty of time.

For some reason, Marie seemed to ponder on the question. "Dow-kio," she finally responded. "King Naruhito is in Dow-Kio."

"Since you asked about Teirm, may I ask about your city as well? How many murders are there in Dow-Kio, every year?" Jeod reluctantly asked. It was a discourteous question, and could easily be taken as an insult. Besides, most people would not know the answer to such a question, as such knowledge was recondite, and reserved only for scholars and administrators. But the two Nihonjin had always been open-minded to any questions he had had, and never seemed to take offense. And they had always seemed very knowledgeable about things that should be considered recondite…

It was Tsubasa who answered: "Ten, maybe."

 _That many?!_ He did not know exactly how many people lived in this Dow-Kio, but based on what he knew of other islands such as Beirland, it was probably in the mid thousands at best. Yet as many murders occurred there as in all of Teirm, a city five times its size. No wonder the Nihonjin were surprised at his answer. Teirm must appear remarkably safe from their viewpoint.

Yet something gnawed at the back of his mind. He had formed a certain impression of the Nihonjin and their country, and many subsequent new things that he had learned about them and their country, while surprising, did not clash with his impression. Except for the latest finding about Nihon.

The latest finding was counterintuitive.

"What is word, for country attack other country?" asked Tsubasa.

"War, or conflict," replied Jeod. "When that happens, the two countries are in a state of war. The opposite to war is peace. The Empire is presently in a conflict… with the Varden," Jeod managed to say. Hoping to shift the subject, for these were sensitive affairs, he redirected the question: "Is Nihon at war or at peace at the present?" Perhaps they were fighting a war with another kingdom for territory over the island, or maybe even an internal uprising? Maybe that explained the high occurrences of violence in Dow-Kio?

"Nihon is at peace," responded Marie. Before Jeod could say anything, she continued: "Nihon can't war. Because of… not allowed," she finished, seeming to struggle for the right words.

And so was Jeod. "What…" he said, speechless. Not allowed? He could not comprehend the purport of those words. Perhaps she had meant to say that Nihon was too weak to fight any war? Being a small island country, it—

Rolf entered the dining room. "Master Jeod," he said, "afternoon approaches quickly."

"Thank you for the reminder, Rolf," Jeod answered. He had almost forgotten; time passed by so quickly when he talked with them. He rose from his seat. "Dear guests, I have an errand to run. I will see you later. And once again, I apologize for the behavior of my compatriots." He bowed, gathered his coat, and left the house.

The chill of the winter air greeted him as he stepped outside. Little more than a fortnight remained until the winter solstice. Too cold to bathe, which seemed to bother Marie and Tsubasa. Slowly the two had been starting to accumulate the typical human odors, though even now, two months past without any baths, they only barely smelled of anything. They still insisted on having their garments washed twice a week, even doing it themselves. Some of their antics he doubted he would ever understand.

He walked out of the gates of the city, trying to appear inconspicuous, as he headed toward the agreed point of rendezvous with the other Eyes. He had requested scrolls and books from the other Eyes on the subject of lands beyond Alagaësia. He hoped something fruitful would come out of it, as his efforts to acquire these texts had come at quite some risk. Then again, what more did he have to lose? He had already lost his livelihood.

Every ship he sent was invariably lost. Just a week ago, pressured by Helen and desperate, he had sent the last one he owned on a large trade expedition. Perhaps it was folly, but at least such a gamble had the slightest chance of reaping a financial gain; having ships permanently docked at port would incur nothing but expenses.

But then he thought about the men aboard, and he felt tainted, sick with himself. They were well aware of the risks and his record with previous ships, but he should not have allowed himself to gamble with the lives of other human beings. But arguments with Helen and her demands left him impetuous and confused, causing him to commit to things that, in hindsight, he regretted.

He trudged through the turf and heather and up and down a range of hills that would block the view of the city, and saw three dark horses carrying three large enclosed wagons, made of wood, in the distance. As he passed by a large rock on the other side, he made out the Eyes by the person's robes, who was standing not two hundred feet from where Jeod was, with someone else behind him.

The tip of a sword was protruding from the person's chest.

Jeod stopped cold. He stared at the sight, of the man hanging lifelessly in the air, the sword through his body holding him there, and of the red substance dripping down onto the grass. The grass below was starting to turn red…

And Jeod finally comprehended the significance of what he was seeing. His hands rushed to his scabbard…

... Only to realize he had not brought his rapier.

Before Jeod could decide to run, the sword was plucked out and the body fell in a heap on the ground. And behind was a man. A tall, thin man with a deathly pale face, and eyes and hair a terrible shade of red. Jeod did not dare to breathe.

Maroon eyes met his. "Greetings," the Shade said.

Well, it did not matter then that he had not brought his rapier. Trying to fend of a Shade made as much sense as trying to fend of a dragon.

Alongside the rising dread, a sickening feeling filled him. They were but two miles from Teirm. If the Shade decided to attack it, was there anything that could stop its advance, and the death and destruction that followed in its wake? The high walls would prove no obstruction. Would the nigh three hundred guards, scattered as they were across the city, supported by a court magician? Would Helen—

"It is considered ill-manners to rebuff a greeting from a person of higher station," said the smooth voice. The nightmare drew closer, walking uphill in steps too quickly for a human. Terrified, Jeod backstepped, losing his balance in the process, and he fell on his buttocks on the sloping hill. Within a dozen seconds, the Shade had stopped less than two yards from Jeod.

Too close.

The Shade smiled a mirthless smile. "Tell me, human, do you like cats?" asked the nightmare.

Jeod did not answer.

The Shade's lips curled downwards. "How insolent," he said. "You are from Teirm, are you not?" Jeod flinched at the question. He had hoped, fervently hoped, that the Shade would not attack the city so long as he was not reminded of its existence.

"Humans," the Shade said mockingly. "So easy to read that one does not even need to access their minds." He gestured toward the horses, who were fearlessly approaching the Shade from behind. "Losna," he uttered, the words reverberating through the air. Suddenly Jeod heard creaking noises coming from the wagons.

"For your insolence, your city will be the first to enjoy my new… project." the Shade stated. "Consider yourself distinguished. I had not planned to test this for a great many months to come, and neither was this the city I had in mind. But thanks to you, I have changed my mind."

The Shade turned his back on Jeod, who was still sitting on the ground, and started walking away. Meanwhile, the doors of the wagons slowly unfolded, revealing a black mass. A foul odor hit Jeod, engulfing his sense of smell, and he gagged.

The black mass moved outwards, filling the verdant ground that lay before the wagons. As Jeod's vision fully turned onto it, and away from the departing figure of the Shade, he saw that the mass was manifold, and that they had heads, legs, and tails.

The mass was a mountain of rats.

Black as charcoal, and their hissing, squeaking noises drowning out everything else, they moved like a black wave toward the city of Teirm.


End file.
